iNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS   ANCF.LRS 


HE  URGED  FIREFLY  TO  GREATER  SPE£U 


Bob  Chester's  Grit 

Or 
From  Ranch  to  Riches 


BY 
FRANK  V.  WEBSTER 


ILLUSTRATED 


THE   SAALFIELD  PUBLISHING   COMPANY 
Akron,  Ohio  New  York 

Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


MCMXI 
By  THE  SAALFIELD  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  UNDER  A  CLOUD  i 

II  BOB  FINDS  AN  UNEXPECTED  CHAMPION n 

III  FREE  AGAIN  19 

IV  BOB  DETERMINES  TO  BE  His  OWN  MASTER 31 

V  BOB  MISSES  A  FRIEND  40 

VI  A  KIHD-HEARTED  WAITRESS   46 

VII  GOOD  LUCK  FROM  BAD 57 

VIII  BOB'S  LUCK  CONTINUES  65 

IX  A  TALE  OF  THE  PLAINS  74 

X  BOB  DOES  A  KIND  ACT  83 

XI  BOB  FAILS  TO  FIND  MRS.  CAMERON  93 

XII  ALONE  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY  100 

XIII  BOB  STARTS  AGAIN  108 

XIV  AT  THE  THROTTLE  OF  A  FREIGHT  ENGINE 116 

XV  BOB  EARNS  His  PASSAGE   124 

XVT  FAIRFAX  AT  LAST  133 

XVII  SEEKING  A  JOB  143 

XVIII  ON  THE  TRACK   149 

XIX  AN  AMAZING  RECEPTION  155 

XX  BOB  BECOMES  OWNER  OF  A  DOG  160 

XXI  AT  THE  RANCH  167 

XXII  OK  THE  RANGE  STATION  173 

XXIII  BOB  OVERHEARS  A  SECOND  PLOT  179 

XXIV  A  RACE  FOR  LIFE  189 

XXV  FROM  RANCH  TO  RICHES 197 


2133640 


Bob  Chester's  Grit 


CHAPTER  I 

UNDER   A   CLOUD 

"HEY,  boy!    What's  your  name?" 

"Bob  Chester." 

"Where  are  you  going  with  that  basket  of  gro- 
ceries?" 

"To  deliver  an  order  to  one  of  my  guardian's 
customers." 

"Are  you  honest?" 

"I  hope  so,  sir,"  replied  Bob,  his  face  express- 
ing surprise  that  his  probity  should  be  questioned. 

The  man  who  had  hailed  Bob  Chester  appeared 
to  be  about  twenty-five  years  old,  and  his  clothes 
were  well-fitting,  giving  him  the  air  of  a  man  of 
means.  With  him  were  two  other  men;  one  of 
whom,  several  years  older,  was  also  well  dressed. 
The  third  member  of  the  group  was  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  the  others.  His  clothes  were  gro- 


2  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

tcsque,  and  bore  every  trace  of  having  been  pur- 
chased in  some  country  store.  His  derby  hat  was 
green-black,  and  apparently  a  size  too  small,  judg- 
ing from  the  manner  in  which  it  rested  on  his 
head.  Had  not  his  appearance  bespoken  that  he 
was  a  stranger  come  from  the  country  to  see  the 
sights  of  New  York,  his  face,  sunburned  and  hon- 
est, would  have  proclaimed  him  as  one  unaccus- 
tomed and  unfamiliar  with  the  wiles  of  a  great 
city. 

Prior  to  his  having  been  addressed,  the  boy  who 
had  given  his  name  as  Bob  Chester  had  noticed 
the  difference  between  the  three  men  as  they  stood 
in  earnest  conversation  on  the  sidewalk,  and  in- 
stinctively he  had  been  attracted  by  the  frankness 
of  the  countryman's  face.  He  had  been  wonder- 
ing why  the  two  New.  Yorkers  were  so  interested 
in  the  other  man,  but  the  unexpectedness  of  his 
being  accosted  had  driven  all  thought  from  his 
mind,  and  he  had  given  his  answers  as  though 
compelled  by  the  searching  glance  the  younger 
of  the  two  men  had  directed  at  him. 

All  three  watched  him  intently,  and  as  he  made 
his  answer  that  he  hoped  he  was  honest,  the  elder 
of  the  New  Yorkers  exclaimed: 

"I  think  he  will  do,  Harry." 

"Well,  if  you  say  so,  all  right,"  returned  the 
Other,  and  then  turning  to  Bob,  he  asked: 

"Would  your  guardian  object  seriously  if  you 


UNDER  A  CLOUD  3 

did  not  deliver  your  order  for  about  half  an 
hour?" 

"I  don't  know.  Saturday  is  always  a  busy  day 
at  the  store,  and  Mr.  Dardus  always  scolds  me  if 
I  don't  get  right  back.  It  doesn't  make  any  dif- 
ference to  him  how  far  I  have  to  go,  he  always 
thinks  I  should  be  back  within  fifteen  minutes  after 
I  have  started.  So  I'd  rather  not  delay — because 
I  don't  like  to  be  scolded,"  added  the  boy,  as 
though  by  way  of  apologizing  for  his  refusal. 

"Well,  if  we  gave  you  a  dollar,  don't  you  think 
you  could  stand  the  old  man's  scolding,  if  you 
were  half  an  hour  late?"  asked  the  elder  of  the 
New  Yorkers,  at  the  same  time  putting  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  and  drawing  forth  a  large  roll  of 
bills,  which  he  opened  ostentatiously.  The  figures 
were  so  large  that  Bob's  eyes  seemed  as  though 
they  would  pop  out  of  his  head,  so  eagerly  did 
they  scan  them.  The  man  extracted  a  dollar  bill. 

The  sight  of  so  much  money  in  the  possession 
of  one  man  fairly  hypnotized  the  boy,  and  he  re- 
plied : 

"Do  you  mean  you  will  give  me  a  whole  dollar 
if  I  will  wait  here  half  an  hour?" 

"That's  what !"  exclaimed  the  man  with  the 
roll  of  bills.  "But  there  is  a  little  more  to  it. 
Our  friend,  Mr.  Anthony  Simpkins,  and  we,  have 
an  important  business  transaction  in  hand,  in- 
volving fifteen  hundred  dollars.  My  friend  and  I 


4  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

don't  happen  to  have  more  than  five  hundred 
dollars  with  us,  while  Mr.  Simpkins  has  seven 
hundred  and  fifty,  and  so  we  want  you  to  hold 
this  money  while  my  friend  and  I  go  to  our  bank 
and  get  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  more, 
which  is  our  share  in  the  deal." 

"What,  me  hold  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars!" exclaimed  Bob,  as  though  unable  to  believe 
his  ears.  "Why,  you  don't  know  anything  about 
me.  I  might  run  off  with  it." 

"You  look  honest,"  replied  the  man  who  had 
hailed  him,  "and  that's  why  we  stopped  you.  Be- 
sides, you  wouldn't  be  able  to  run  away  if  you 
wanted  to,  because  Mr.  Simpkins  is  going  to  wait 
here  with  you  until  we  return." 

"And  you  will  give  me  a  dollar  just  for  keeping 
the  money  until  you  come  back?"  demanded  Bob. 

"Exactly." 

"All  right.  That's  half  as  much  as  I  get  for 
working  a  week." 

"That's  the  boy.  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you 
have  the  sense  of  thrift  so  strongly  developed. 
Now  we  will  just  put  Mr.  Simpkins'  seven  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  and  our  five  hundred  dollars 
in  this  envelope,  which  you  will  keep  until  we 
return." 

As  he  spoke,  the  elder  of  the  New  Yorkers 
counted  out  five  hundred  dollars,  put  it  in  the 
envelope,  and  then  asked  the  countryman  for  hit 


UNDER  A  CLOUD  5 

share.  After  verifying  the  amount,  he  placed  it 
with  the  other  money,  then  handed  an  envelope 
to  Bob,  exclaiming: 

"Now  you  two  stay  right  here,  and  we  will  be 
back  within  fifteen  minutes." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  Bob,  as  he  grasped  the 
envelope.  And  as  his  fingers  closed  about  it,  he 
unconsciously  threw  back  his  head,  and  squared 
his  shoulders,  proud  of  the  thought  that  he  had 
been  selected  as  the  custodian  of  such  a  large 
sum  of  money. 

Again  repeating  their  promise  to  return  within 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  two  New  Yorkers 
hastened  away,  and  were  soon  lost  among  the 
people  who  thronged  the  thoroughfare. 

Oblivious  as  the  people  who  live  in  New  York 
are  to  the  presence  of  their  fellowmen,  the  sight 
of  the  man  so  obviously  from  the  country  and 
the  bright-eyed,  alert  boy,  closely  clasping  the  en- 
velope in  one  hand,  while  at  his  feet  rested  the 
basket  packed  with  groceries,  attracted  many  a 
passing  glance. 

Between  Simpkins  and  Bob,  however,  no  words 
were  exchanged;  though  each,  while  apparently 
gazing  at  the  passersby,  kept  a  sharp  lookout 
upon  the  other. 

Minute  after  minute  went  by,  without  the  re- 
turn of  the  two  men,  who  had  said  they  were  go- 
ing to  the  bank  for  money,  and  as  the  time  wore 


6  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

on  without  their  re-appearance,  Simpkins  ex- 
claimed: 

"I  wonder  what's  keeping  them?  I  don't  want 
to  stand  here  all  day." 

"And  I  can't,"  said  Bob.  "I  will  be  more  than 
Half  an  hour  late  in  getting  back  to  the  store,  and 
I  know  Mr.  Dardus  will  be  very  angry,.  I  most 
wish  I  hadn't  said  I'd  wait.  It  just  shows  that 
Mr.  Dardus  is  right  when  he  says  there  Ls  no 
pleasure  in  having  money  that  isn't  earned  hon- 
estly, and  getting  a  dollar  for  just  holding  this 
money  isn't  really  honest  work." 

"Well,  if  you  think  you  ought  to  be  delivering 
your  groceries,  why  not  give  the  envelope  to  me? 
I'll  stay  here  and  wait,  though  I  mast  say  I  am 
getting  tired." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Bob.  "I  gave  my  word  that  I 
would  stay,  and  I  will." 

The  countryman's  suggestion  that  he  be  in- 
trusted with  the  money  aroused  Bob's  suspicion, 
for  he  remembered  that  the  others  had  placed 
five  hundred  dollars  in  the  envelope,  and  he 
thought  it  was  a  scheme  on  the  part  of  Simpkins 
to  get  possession  of  this  money.  So  that  after  this 
interchange  of  words,  both  lapsed  into  silence. 

As  the  quarter  hour  lengthened  into  a  half, 
then  to  three-quarters,  and  finally  to  an  hour,  with- 
out the  re-appearance  of  the  two  well-dressed 
New  Yorkers,  Bob's  dread  of  his  guardian's  an- 


UNDER  A  CLOUD  7 

ger  outweighed  his  desire  to  earn  the  dollar,  and 
he  finally  exclaimed: 

"I  can't  wait  any  longer;  honest  I  can't."  And 
then,  chancing  to  catch  sight  of  a  policeman 
standing  on  the  corner  about  a  hundred  feet  away, 
a  way  out  of  the  difficulty  suggested  itself,  and  he 
said  to  the  countryman: 

"I  tell  you  how  we  can  fix  it.  We  will  go  over 
to  that  policeman  and  explain  the  matter  to  him, 
and  I'll  ask  him  to  hold  the  envelope  until  those 
men  come  back." 

And  without  giving  Simpkins  time  to  protest, 
Bob  picked  up  his  basket,  and  led  the  way  to 
where  the  guardian  of  the  law  was  standing,  in- 
dolently surveying  the  crowd. 

Casting  a  contemptuous  glance  at  the  two  ludi- 
crous figures  that  approached  him,  the  policeman 
first  listened  to  the  excited  explanation  of  the 
boy  indifferently,  then  with  incredulity,  and  finally 
with  amusement. 

"I  have  heard  of  such  easy  marks,  but  I  never 
expected  to  see  them  in  flesh  and  blood,"  ex- 
claimed the  officer,  when  Bob  stopped  speaking. 
"So  you  think  you  are  holding  some  money  in 
that  envelope,  do  you,  kid?  Well,  I'll  bet  a  year's 
pay  that  there  is  nothing  in  it  but  old  paper." 

And  while  the  countryman  and  the  boy  gazed 
at  him  in  speechless  dismay,  the  policeman  took 
the  envelope  from  Bob's  hand,  opened  it,  and 


8  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

drew  forth  to  their  startled  gaze  a  roll  of  tissue- 
paper. 

"I  told  you  so,"  grunted  the  policeman,  but  fur- 
ther comment  was  interrupted  by  the  actions  of 
Simpkins. 

No  sooner  had  he  discovered  that  he  had  been 
swindled  than  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  lungs : 

"I've  been  robbed!  I've  been  robbed!  They've 
stolen  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  from  me!" 

The  loud,  excited  words  and  the  gesticulations 
of  the  grotesquely-garbed  man  quickly  drew  the 
attention  of  the  passersby,  and  in  a  trice  the  vic- 
tims of  the  swindlers  and  the  policeman  were  the 
center  of  a  curious  throng  of  people. 

"I  want  my  money!  I  want  my  money!"  bel- 
lowed Simpkins. 

"You  stand  a  fine  chance  of  getting  it,"  re- 
turned the  policeman,  "but  I  will  do  what  I  can 
for  you.  I'll  take  you  around  to  the  police  station, 
and  you  can  make  a  complaint  to  the  sergeant 
and  give  him  a  description  of  the  'con'  men." 

As  word  of  the  swindle  was  passed  among  the 
crowd,  various  were  the  comments  and  bits  of 
advice  offered. 

At  first  Bob  had  been  too  stunned  by  the  dis- 
covery that  he  had  been  made  an  innocent  party 
to  the  swindle  even  to  think,  but  as  he  gradually 
recovered  from  the  unpleasant  surprise,  his  one 
thought  was  to  get  away  from  Simpkins,  to  de- 


UNDER  A  CLOUD  9 

liver  his  groceries  and  get  back  to  the  store  as 
quickly  as  possible.  In  order  to  carry  out  this 
plan,  he  began  to  worm  his  way  through  the  con- 
stantly increasing  crowd. 

One  of  the  men  who  were  offering  advice 
chanced  to  see  him,  and  cried: 

"There  goes  the  boy!  He  was  probably  stand- 
ing in  with  the  swindlers.  Why  don't  you  arrest 
him,  Mr.  Officer?" 

"That's  the  thing  to  do,"  agreed  several  others, 
and  the  policeman,  evidently  thinking  that  it  would 
be  a  wise  procedure  for  him  to  seize  some  one 
in  connection  with  the  swindle,  leaped  after  Bob, 
grasped  him  roughly  by  the  shoulder,  and  started 
for  the  station-house,  followed  by  Simpkins  and 
those  of  the  crowd  who  had  nothing  better  to  do. 

Arrived  at  the  police  station,  the  countryman 
and  the  patrolman  both  talked  at  once,  while  Bob 
stood  in  silence,  overcome  by  the  disgrace  of  his 
arrest. 

Taking  his  pencil,  the  sergeant  stopped  the 
countryman's  torrent  of  words,  and  began  to  ask 
him  questions  as  to  his  meeting  with  the  stran- 
gers, eliciting  the  information  that  he  had  met 
them  coming  over  on  the  ferry-boat  from  Jersey 
City,  and  that  the  business  deal  they  had  pro- 
posed was  the  betting  of  fifteen  hundred  dollars 
on  a  race  horse  that  was  sure  to  win. 

"It's  a  pity  there  isn't  a  law  to  keep  you  coun- 


io  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

try  people  out  of  the  cities,"  grunted  the  sergeant, 
when  the  details  of  the  story  had  been  told  him, 
and  then,  turning  to  the  policeman,  he  said: 

"You  did  right  in  bringing  along  the  boy,  Me- 
Carty.  He  is  evidently  one  of  the  gang,  or  he 
wouldn't  have  been  passing  along  the  street  just 
as  he  was.  We  may  be  able  to  learn  from  him 
who  the  'con*  men  are,  and  where  they  hang  out. 
Search  him,  and  then  take  him  back  to  a  cell.  I'll 
send  a  couple  of  plain-clothes  men  in  to  talk  with 
him." 

And  grabbing  Bob  by  the  arm,  the  policeman 
dragged  him  toward  the  door  which  led  to  a 
cell. 


CHAPTER  II 


AMONG  those  who  had  heard  the  story  of  the 
swindling  of  the  countryman  were  several  report- 
ers for  the  great  metropolitan  afternoon  papers, 
and  as  the  burly  policeman  dragged  the  pathetic 
figure  of  the  grocer's  boy  to  the  cell,  one  of  these, 
a  particularly  clean-cut,  wide-awake  young  fellow, 
exclaimed  : 

"Sergeant,  that's  the  rawest  thing  I  ever  saw 
you  do.  I  don't  believe  that  boy  knows  anything 
more  about  those  'con'  men,  and  probably  not  as 
much,  as  you  do.  It's  a  shame  to  lock  him  up, 
and  I  am  going  to  give  you  the  hottest  roast  for 
doing  so  that  the  paper  will  stand  for." 

"You  do,  and  you'll  never  set  foot  inside  this 
station  while  I'm  in  charge,"  retorted  the  officer. 
"If  you  knew  as  much  about  old  Dardus  as  I  do, 
you  wouldn't  be  so  keen  to  champion  this  boy. 
The  old  man  has  been  mixed  up  in  many  a  ques- 
tionable transaction,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  it  turned  out  that  he  was  in  league  with  these 

II 


12  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

fellows  who  got  that  country  bumpkin's  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  that  he  put  the  boy 
up  to  playing  the  part  he  did." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  Dardus,"  an- 
nounced the  reporter  who  had  taken  up  the  cudgel 
in  Bob's  behalf,  "and  I  don't  care.  If  he  is  mixed 
up  in  questionable  dealings,  that  doesn't  mean  that 
the  boy  is  necessarily  a  party  to  them.  You  can't 
tell  me  that  a  chap,  with  a  face  as  honest  as  that 
boy  has,  is  a  criminal." 

"When  you've  been  doing  police  stations  longer, 
Foster,  you  will  learn  that  you  can't  jmdgc  crimi- 
nals by  their  faces,"  snarled  the  sergeant,  and  as 
the  other  reporters  heard  this  caustic  comment, 
they  laughed  uproariously. 

"Laugh  if  you  want  to,"  returned  Bob's  cham- 
pion, "but  I  am  going  to  prove  the  boy's  inno- 
cence of  any  complicity  in  the  swindle." 

And  without  more  ado,  the  reporter  left  the 
police  station. 

Although  the  representatives  of  the  other  pa- 
pers had  sided  in  with  the  police  official  who  an- 
nounced his  belief  in  Bob's  guilt,  they  nevertheless 
experienced  a  feeling  of  uneasiness,  lest  Foster 
might  after  all  be  right,  and  they  were  holding 
consultation  as  to  the  advisability  of  investigating 
the  story  more  thoroughly,  when  the  sergeant 
exclaimed : 

"Don't  let  that  fellow  worry  you.     I've  known 


AN  UNEXPECTED  CHAMPION  13 

Len  Dardus  for  years.  He's  as  crooked  as  they 
make  them,  and  he  never  had  an  honest  man  work 
for  him  that  I  know  of." 

As  the  acceptance  of  the  police  official's  theory 
would  save  them  the  necessity  of  investigating  the 
story  further,  the  reporters  agreed  to  accept  his 
version,  and  to  accord  with  it  they  wrote  their 
stories. 

As  Jack  Foster  left  the  police  station,  his  anger 
at  the  system  which  made  it  impossible  for  a  per- 
son without  influence  or  money  to  obtain  justice, 
was  strong,  and  his  heart  went  out  to  the  boy,  as 
he  thought  how  he  would  feel,  were  he  himself  in 
his  place. 

"If  that  boy  isn't  honest  from  the  soles  of  his 
feet  to  the  top  of  his  head,  I  shall  be  the  most 
surprised  man  in  New  York,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"and  if  my  paper  has  any  influence,  I  am  going  to 
get  him  out  of  his  trouble. " 

Occupied  with  considering  various  plans  for 
aiding  Bob,  Foster  quickly  reached  the  store  of 
Len  Dardus,  but  as  he  entered  and  caught  sight 
of  an  old,  gray-haired  man,  with  a  face  in  which 
craftiness  was  the  chief  characteristic,  he  won- 
dered if,  after  all,  the  police  sergeant  could  have 
been  right. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Len  Dardus?"  asked  Foster,  walk- 
ing up  to  the  counter,  behind  which  this  repelling 
creature  stood. 


I4  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"That's  my  name,"  snapped  the  proprietor  of 
the  store,  adding  as  he  scrutinized  his  questioner 
closely : 

"What  do>-oM  want?" 

"I  want  to  know  if  you  have  a  boy  working 
for  you  by  the  name  of  Bob  Chester." 

"I  have,  but  I  won't  have  after  to-night,  I  can 
tell  you.  I  have  no  use  for  lazy  boys,  and  for 
laziness  he  can't  be  beaten.  Here  I  sent  him  to 
deliver  some  goods  more  than  two  hours  ago, 
and  he  hasn't  got  back  yet,  and  this  is  my  busiest 
day." 

So  disagreeable  was  the  tone  in  which  the  old 
man  spoke  that  Foster  could  not  refrain  from 
remarking: 

"Well,  you  do  not  seem  to  be  overrushed  with 
trade  just  now.  However,  that  is  neither  here  nor 
there.  How  long  have  you  had  Bob  in  your  em- 
ploy?" 

"Ever  since  he  was  big  enough  to  be  of  any 
service  to  me." 

"He's  a  good  boy,  isn't  he?" 

"No,  he's  not.  Didn't  I  just  tell  you  he  has 
been  gone  over  two  hours,  delivering  an  order 
that  should  not  have  taken  him  more  than  fifteen 
minutes  at  the  most?  No  good  boy  would  dawdle 
so  about  his  business.  But  why  do  you  ask?" 

Foster,  however,  was  not  ready  to  tell  Bob's 
employer  of  his  predicament  until  he  had  ob- 


AN  UNEXPECTED  CHAMPION  15 

tained  more  information  about  the  boy,  and  in- 
stead of  answering  the  question,  said: 

"You  misunderstood  my  meaning.  I  want  to 
know  whether  or  not  he  is  honest  or  has  any  bad 
habits." 

"He  has  the  habit  of  taking  a  long  time  to 
deliver  his  orders,  and  he  always  has  some  plaus- 
ible excuse  for  the  delay — although  I  never  ac- 
cept his  excuses.  It  isn't  the  way  to  bring  up  a 
boy.  But  he  doesn't  steal,  and  I  don't  let  him 
go  out  nights,  so  he  can't  have  any  companions. 
But  why  do  you  ask?  What  business  of  yours 
is  it?" 

"Just  one  more  question  before  I  answer  you." 

"You  seem  mighty  long  on  questions,  but  I'll 
not  answer  another  one  until  you  tell  me  why 
you  are  taking  such  pains  to  find  out  about  Bob. 
He  hasn't  any  friend  but  me.  I'm  his  guar- 
dian." 

So  hostile  was  the  grocer's  manner  becoming, 
and  with  such  increasing  suspicion  did  he  view 
his  inquisitor,  that  Foster  realized  it  would  be 
necessary  to  explain  Bob's  predicament  were  he 
to  be  able  to  help  him,  and  briefly  he  told  the 
story  that  had  been  repeated  in  the  police  station. 

"That  just  goes  to  show  my  theory  is  right," 
declared  the  grocer,  when  he  had  been  given  the 
particulars  of  his  ward's  arrest.  "If  Bob  had 
gone  about  his  business  and  delivered  the  order, 


16  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

instead  of  being  tempted  by  the  offer  of  a  dollar, 
he  wouldn't  have  got  into  this  trouble.  It  will 
be  a  good  lesson  for  him,  and  I  shall  be  able  to 
get  along  some  way,  I  suppose,  until  he  comes 
back." 

"But  surely  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are 
not  going  to  do  anything  to  help  him  out  of  his 
trouble?"  exclaimed  Foster  in  amazement,  as  he 
heard  the  heartless  words. 

With  a  depreciating  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  Len 
Dardus  responded: 

"But  what  can  I  do?  It  will  cost  money  to 
hire  a  lawyer,  or  even  to  bail  him  out.  Besides, 
as  I  said,  it  will  be  a  good  lesson  for  him." 

"But  hasn't  he  any  money  of  his  own?"  queried 
the  reporter. 

"What  do  you  want  to  know  for?  Are  you  a 
lawyer?  No,  sir!  if  you  are,  and  have  come  to 
tell  me  about  Bob  in  the  hope  that  I  will  hire  you, 
you  might  as  well  go  back  to  your  place  of  busi- 
ness. I  won't  spend  a  cent  on  him.  The  lesson 
will  do  him  good." 

The  heartlessness  of  the  grocer  incensed  Fos- 
ter, and  he  retorted: 

"It  happens  that  I  am  not  a  lawyer,  so  it 
isn't  any  money  that  I  am  after.  I  am  acting 
simply  from  a  desire  to  see  the  boy  get  fair 
treatment,  and  if  I  were  his  guardian,  whether 


AN  UNEXPECTED  CHAMPION  17 

he  had  any  money  or  not,  I  would  do  everything 
in  my  power  to  help  him  out  of  his  trouble." 

"But  what  can  I  do?  There  is  no  one  to  stay 
in  the  store  here,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  could 
help  any  way." 

"You  could  go  down  to  the  police  station  and 
speak  a  word  for  the  lad.  If  you  have  had  the 
care  of  him  for  so  long,  what  you  could  say  in 
regard  to  his  honesty  ought  to  be  sufficient  to 
cause  his  release." 

As  he  mentioned  the  grocer's  going  to  the 
police  station,  Foster  thought  he  noticed  the  old 
man  tremble,  as  though  in  fear,  and  what  the 
sergeant  had  said  about  Dardus  recurred  to  him, 
and  while  he  hesitated  as  to  whether  or  not  he 
should  press  the  point,  Bob's  guardian  exclaimed: 

"I  can't  go  now.  There  is  no  one  to  look  after 
the  store.  But  perhaps  I  can  go  down  this  even- 
ing." 

"That  would  be  too  late.  His  case  will  come 
up  in  court  this  afternoon." 

"Well,  if  it  does,  the  boy'll  have  to  take  the 
consequences.  I  always  told  him  he  shouldn't 
linger  over  delivering  his  orders.  It  will  be 
a  good  lesson  to  him." 

The  incessant  repetition  of  the  last  words 
grated  on  Foster's  ears,  and,  realizing  that  he 
was  only  wasting  time  in  trying  to  persuade  the 


i8  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

hard-hearted  guardian  to  help  his  ward,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"Then  you  refuse  to  do  anything  to  assist  Bob, 
do  you?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  would  put  it  exactly 
that  way.  I'll  see  if  I  can't  do  something  this 
evening." 

"Well,  you  may  be  obliged  to  leave  your  store, 
whether  you  want  to  or  not,"  retorted  Foster, 
and  with  this  enigmatical  remark,  the  very  sug- 
gestiveness  of  which  caused  an  expression  of  fear 
to  settle  on  the  face  of  the  grocer,  the  reporter 
turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  shop. 


CHAPTER  III 

FREE   AGAIN 

WHILE  Bob's  champion,  unknown  to  the  boy, 
was  interesting  himself  in  his  cause,  Bob  was  sit- 
ting on  a  little  iron  bunk  his  cell  contained,  star- 
ing about  him  as  though  unable  to  comprehend 
the  situation. 

After  a  few,  minutes  he  heard  footsteps  ap- 
proaching down  the  corridor,  and  then  he  was 
suddenly  aroused  from  his  reverie  by  a  voice 
exclaiming : 

"Well,  kid,  you  came  near  making  a  good- 
sized  bit  of  money." 

"I  don't  call  a  dollar  a  very  large  sum,"  re- 
torted Bob. 

"A  dollar?  What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed 
one  of  the  two  men  whom  Bob  beheld  standing 
outside  the  cell  door,  staring  at  him  through  the 
bars.  "You  had  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
of  that  countryman's  money,  didn't  you?" 

"I  saw  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  of  his 
money  put  in  the  envelope,  but  all  I  was  to  get 

19 


20  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

for  holding  the  envelope  until  those  bad  men 
returned  was  to  be  one  dollar — and  they  didn't 
even  come  back  to  pay  me,  and  now  I  haven't 
delivered  the  groceries,  and  Mr.  Dardus  will  be 
very  angry." 

"Oh,  ho!  So  you  are  Len  Dardus'  kid,  are 
you?"  queried  the  other  of  Bob's  inquisitors. 

"I'm  not  his  kid,  but  he  is  rny  guardian,"  cor- 
rected the  lad  in  a  voice  so  full  of  reproach  that 
the  two  men  could  not  refrain  from  smiling. 

"Then  you  don't  like  Dardus?"  smiled  the  one 
who  had  addressed  him  first. 

"I  think  he  is  unreasonable,"  returned  Bob. 

"Yes,  and  none  too  honest,"  commented  the 
other. 

With  the  various  methods  known  only  to  the 
police  detectives  of  the  large  metropolitan  police 
forces,  the  two  men  put  Bob  through  a  grilling 
examination,  trying  in  every  possible  way  to  scare 
him  into  admitting  either  a  knowledge  of  who 
the  swindlers  were,  or  of  direct  complicity  in 
the  confidence  game,  but  without  being  able  to 
shake  his  story,  even  in  the  slightest  detail. 

Loath  as  the  police  officials  were  to  admit 
Bob's  innocence,  his  straightforward  answers  and 
manly  manner  finally  convinced  them  that  he  was, 
as  he  had  said,  entirely  guiltless,  and  they  with- 
drew. 

As  they  returned  to  the  outer  room  of  the  po- 


FREE  AGAIN  21 

lice  station,  the  sergeant  looked  at  them  ques- 
tioningly. 

"That  boy  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  swindle," 
announced  one  of  the  men  who  had  been  ex- 
amining Bob. 

"That's  what,"  confirmed  the  other.  "If  there 
ever  was  an  honest  boy  in  New  York,  that  poor 
little  chap  back  in  the  cell  is  one.  If  you  take 
my  advice,  sergeant,  you  will  let  him  go,  and  you 
will  change  the  entry  on  your  police  book  from 
'Arrested  and  Held  for  Complicity,'  to  'Held  for 
Examination'." 

"What's  the  matter  with  all  you  guys,  any- 
way?" snarled  the  sergeant,  as  he  saw  that  the 
weight  of  opinion  was  against  him.  "Has  the 
boy  hypnotized  you?  It's  enough  to  convict  him 
that  he  should  be  working  for  Len  Dardus." 

"That  isn't  his  fault,"  returned  the  officer  who 
had  advised  the  sergeant  to  change  the  entry  in 
his  book.  "His  mother  and  father  died  when 
he  was  three  years  old,  and  his  father  provided 
in  his  will  that  Dardus  should  be  his  guardian, 
though  from  what  the  boy  has  told  us,  he  hasn't 
had  any  too  happy  a  time  of  it,  poor  little 
shaver." 

"Now  don't  go  turning  on  the  sympathy," 
growled  the  sergeant.  "I  don't  care  whether  the 
boy  is  guilty  or  not.  All  I  know  is  that  we  have 
got  to  make  a  case  against  him.  It  would  never 


22  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

do  to  have  it  said  that  two  sharpers  could  rob  a 
countryman  in  broad  daylight  in  our  precinct. 
Haven't  our  reports  to  headquarters  said,  and 
haven't  the  papers  said,  that  our  precinct  has 
been  free  from  all  such  crimes  for  more  than  six 
months,  and  this  is  one  of  the  rawest  swindles 
that  has  been  worked  for  a  long  time.  So  you 
two  get  busy  and  fix  up  your  case  if  you  want  to 
stay  in  this  precinct.  If  you  don't,  I'll  tell  the 
captain  and  the  inspector,  and  you  will  be  sorry." 

Without  response,  the  two  officers,  who  be- 
lieved in  Bob's  innocence,  turned  on  their  heels, 
and  started  toward  the  door  of  the  police  station 

"Hey,  you  two !  Go  down  to  the  court.  I  am 
going  to  send  this  boy  right  down,  and  mind  you 
remember  what  I  told  you,"  shouted  the  sergeant. 
And,  suiting  his  action  to  his  words,  he  gave  or- 
ders for  Bob  to  be  brought  from  his  cell  and 
taken  to  the  police  court. 

Just  as  Bob  appeared  in  the  outer  room  of 
the  station  house,  Foster  entered. 

As  he  saw  the  boy  whose  cause  he  had 
espoused,  the  reporter  exclaimed: 

"So  you  have  decided  to  release  him,  have  you, 
sergeant?" 

"Release  nothing,"  growled  the  official.  "He's 
on  his  way  to  court,"  and  then,  as  he  had  read 
from  the  expression  on  Foster's  face  that  his 
mission  to  interview  Len  Dardus  had  not  been 


FREE  AGAIN  23 

altogether  satisfactory,  he  continued:  "You 
found  I  was  pretty  near  right  about  old  Dardus, 
didn't  you?" 

"He  surely  isn't  a  very  agreeable  person," 
answered  the  reporter,  "and  I  quite  agree  with 
you  that  if  there  was  money  enough  in  the  under- 
taking, he  would  never  stop  to  question  whether 
or  not  it  was  against  the  law.  But  I  tell  you  one 
thing,  sergeant,  you  are  dead  wrong  about  the 
boy.  The  old  man  actually  hates  him." 

"Then  it  would  be  an  easy  way  for  him  to  get 
rid  of  the  kid  by  getting  him  into  just  this  kind 
of  a  mess." 

"Maybe  you're  right,"  assented  Foster,  as  this 
theory  was  announced,  "still  I  don't  believe  you 
are.  I  am  more  convinced  than  ever  that  the 
boy  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  swindle,  and  I 
don't  think  old  Dardus  did,  either." 

"Well,  it  won't  help  matters  to  keep  arguing 
about  it  here.  We'll  let  the  judge  decide.  Me- 
Carty,  call  a  patrol  wagon,  and  take  the  kid  to 
court." 

"Oh,  I  say  I  you  are  surely  not  going  to  make 
that  kid  ride  in  the  patrol  wagon?"  protested 
one  of  the  other  newspaper  men.  "That  would 
be  rubbing  it  in  too  hard." 

Emphatically  the  others  added  their  protest, 
and  in  the  face  of  such  opposition,  the  sergeant 
countermanded  his  order  for  the  police  wagon, 


24  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

and  instead  instructed  Patrolman  McCarty  to 
take  the  boy  to  court,  which  was  less  than  two 
blocks  away. 

Surrounded  by  the  reporters,  Bob  and  the  pa- 
trolman walked  down  the  street,  closely  followed 
by  the  countryman,  whose  desire  to  make  money 
without  working  for  it  had  led  to  the  loss  of  the 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

Arrived  at  the  building  in  which  the  court  was 
located,  Bob  was  led  away  to  the  detention  room, 
to  await  the  calling  of  his  case,  while  the  reporters 
and  Simpkins  made  their  way  direct  to  the  court 
room. 

In  due  course  the  case  was  reached. 

When  the  presiding  magistrate  caught  sight  of 
Bob's  sad  face,  the  stern  expression  on  his  own 
countenance  relaxed,  and  he  bestowed  upon  the 
trembling  boy  a  glance  full  of  encouragement. 

Noting  this,  Foster,  who  had  been  watching 
the  judge  intently,  was  inspired  with  the  hope  that 
the  boy  would  be  quickly  discharged.  But  his 
pleasure  was  only  momentary,  for,  as  the  magis- 
trate read  the  charge,  his  face  became  even  more 
austere  than  usual. 

"Well,  Chester,  what  have  you  to  say  for 
yourself?"  demanded  the  judge,  directing  a  glance 
at  the  boy,  as  though  he  would  pierce  his  very 
soul.  "Are  you  guilty,  or  not  guilty?" 

The  strangeness  of  the  scene  and  lack  of  famil- 


'WELL  CHESTER,  WHAT  HAVE  YOU  TO  SAY  FOR  YOURSELF ?" 


FREE  AGAIN  25 

iarity  with  the  procedure  of  a  court  caused  BoE 
to  remain  silent. 

Again  the  magistrate  repeated  his  question,  but 
still  Bob  made  no  reply. 

"I  think  he  wants  to  plead  guilty,"  interposed 
one  of  the  plain-clothes  men  whom  the  sergeant 
had  ordered  to  make  a  case  against  the  boy. 
"Perhaps  if  you  offered  to  give  him  a  light  sen- 
tence if  he  would  tell  us  who  the  two  men  are  who 
got  away  with  the  money,  he  would  do  so." 

"How  about  that?"  demanded  the  magistrate, 
again  directing  his  gaze  at  the  boy. 

But  before  Bob  had  a  chance  to  reply,  Foster 
exclaimed : 

"He  does  not  want  to  plead  guilty,  your  honor. 
This  whole  business  in  dragging  this  boy  to  court 
is  an  outrage.  He  had  no  more  knowledge  of 
the  fact  that  those  men  intended  to,  or  were, 
swindling  this  man  from  the  country,  than  you 
have." 

The  tone  in  which  the  reporter  spoke  was  one 
that  could  not  fail  to  be  impressive,  and  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  the  magistrate,  who  knew 
Foster  as  a  reporter  and  admired  him  for  his 
manly  fearlessness,  asked: 

"What  do  you  know  about  the  case?" 

"I  protest,  your  honor,  that  this  man  should 
not  be  allowed  to  interfere  with  the  case,"  said 
one  of  the  plain-clothes  officers.  "He  was  not  a 


26  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

witness  of  the  transaction.  I  think  it  would  be 
more  proper  to  hear  Simpkins'  version  of  the 
affair." 

"When  I  wish  your  advice,  officer,  I  will  ask 
for  it,"  snapped  the  magistrate,  and  turning  again 
to  Foster,  he  said: 

"Tell  me  all  you  know  about  this  business." 

"Thank  you,  your  honor,  I  will: 

"I  happened  to  be  in  the  police  station  when 
the  boy  was  brought  in.  He  told  a  straightfor- 
ward story  about  having  been  on  the  way  to  de- 
liver some  groceries,  when  he  was  hailed  by  one 
of  three  men,  who  asked  him  a  few  questions,  and 
then  offered  him  a  dollar  if  he  would  hold  an 
envelope,  which  was  supposed  to  contain  twelve 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  for  a  few  minutes.  The 
thought  of  earning  such  a  sum  of  money  so 
easily  evidently  caused  the  boy  to  forget  all  dis- 
cretion. But  as  the  minutes  went  by  and  the  two 
men  did  not  reappear,  the  boy  grew  restless,  and 
finally  suggested  that  he  hand  the  envelope  to 
Officer  McCarty  here,  and  that  he  be  allowed  to 
go  about  his  errand  of  delivering  the  groceries. 
Then " 

Interrupting,  the  magistrate  turned  to  Simp- 
kins,  and  demanded  suddenly: 

"Is  that  true?" 

The  question  was  so  unexpected  that  the  coun- 


FREE  AGAIN  27 

tryman  was  surprised  into  answering  truthfully, 
and  replied: 

"Yes,  sir." 

Realizing  that  the  turn  of  affairs  was  making 
them  appear  ridiculous,  the  officer  who  had  sug- 
gested that  Bob  be  allowed  to  plead  guilty,  and 
receive  a  light  sentence,  if  he  would  divulge  the 
name  of  the  two  swindlers,  hurriedly  exclaimed: 

"But  the  boy  has  a  bad  record,  your  honor." 

"That  is  not  so,  your  honor,"  retorted  Foster 
hotly.  "When  I  found  that  the  sergeant  was  de- 
termined to  hold  the  boy,  I  went  to  the  man  for 
whom  he  works — his  name  is  Len  Dardus — and 
made  inquiries  about  him.  Mr.  Dardus  is  his 
guardian,  and  though  it  was  evident  that  he  had 
no  love  for  the  boy,  the  worst  he  could  say  about 
him  was  that  he  took  a  half  hour  to  deliver  an 
order  that  should  have  been  delivered  in  twenty 
minutes.  As  to  his  associating  with  bad  compan- 
ions, that  is  not  so,  for  his  guardian  said  he  was 
never  out  at  night,  always  preferring  to  read." 

"If  the  boy  is  such  a  paragon  of  virtue,  why 
didn't  his  guardian  come  to  court  himself  and 
try  to  help  the  boy,  instead  of  leaving  it  to  a  re- 
porter?" sneered  the  officer  who  was  trying  so 
hard  to  make  a  case  against  Bob. 

"I  tried  to  get  him  to  come,"  exclaimed  Foster, 
"but  he  refused  on  the  ground  that  he  could  not 
leave  his  store." 


28  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"You  reporters  are  certainly  good  ones  at  put- 
ting up  a  plausible  story,"  retorted  the  officer 
contemptuously. 

Striking  his  desk  a  sharp  rap  with  his  gavel, 
the  magistrate  exclaimed: 

"When  I  want  to  hear  from  you,  sir,  I  will  let 
you  know.  You  would  make  a  far  better  im- 
pression if  you  and  the  sergeant  and  every  other 
available  man  connected  with  the  precinct  were 
out  searching  for  the  two  swindlers,  instead  of 
trying  to  send  a  poor,  almost  friendless,  lad  to 
prison.  If  you  arrested  half  as  many  criminals 
as  you  do  innocent  men,  it  wouldn't  take  long  to 
rid  this  city  of  crime." 

So  stinging  was  this  rebuke  that  the  reporters 
were  busy  writing  down  the  words  of  the  judge, 
and  before  they  had  finished,  the  magistrate  said: 

"Does  your  guardian  treat  you  well,  Bob?" 

"Why,  sir,  I  suppose  so,  sir;  but  he  scolds  me 
a  lot.  He  seems  to  think  that  every  time  he  sends 
me  out  to  deliver  an  order,  that  I  should  come 
back  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  no  matter 
whether  I  have  to  go  one  block  or  twenty." 

"How  much  does  he  pay  you?" 

"Two  dollars  a  week,  sir." 

"What  do  you  read  at  night?" 

"About  farming  and  ranching  out  West,  sir." 

"Then  you  want  to  go  out  West?" 


FREE  AGAIN  29 

"Yes,  sir.  I'm  going  just  as  soon  as  I  have 
money  enough.  I  have  saved  ten  dollars  already 
towards  going." 

"Huh!  What  becomes  of  your  charge  that 
the  boy  has  evil  associates,  Mr.  Officer?"  snapped 
the  magistrate,  as  he  heard  Bob's  reply.  "Any 
boy  who  earns  two  dollars  a  week,  and  has  man- 
aged to  save  ten,  surely  can't  have  any  bad 
habits. 

"Bob,  you  are  discharged.  The  disgrace  to 
which  you  have  been  subjected  of  being  arrested 
and  brought  to  court  is  an  outrage,  and  I  wish 
there  was  some  way  that  you  could  obtain  re- 
dress from  the  officers  who  subjected  you  to  it, 
but  unfortunately  there  is  not." 

Reaching  into  his  pocket,  the  magistrate  drew 
forth  some  bills,  from  which  he  selected  one  of 
the  denomination  of  five  dollars,  and  handed  it 
to  Bob. 

"Put  this  with  your  ten  dollars,"  he  continued. 
"It  will  help  some  toward  getting  you  out  West, 
and  now  you  go  back  to  Mr.  Dardus,  and  tell 
him  that  Judge  Bristol  said  that  your  arrest  was 
an  outrage.  Clerk,  call  the  next  case." 

If  Bob  had  been  bewildered  by  the  circum- 
stances that  had  led  to  his  being  brought  to  court, 
he  was  still  more  so  with  the  sudden  turn  in  events 
that  had  resulted  in  his  release,  and  it  was  not 


30  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

until  one  of  the  court  attaches  good-naturedly  ad- 
vised him  to  leave  the  court  room  as  soon  as  he 
could,  that  he  realized  he  was  again  free. 

But  in  his  haste  to  obey,  he  suddenly  remem- 
bered the  reporter  whose  interest  in  him  had 
been  of  such  assistance,  and  he  stopped  and  looked 
about  the  courtroom  for  him.  But  Foster  and 
the  other  reporters  were  busy  telephoning  the 
story  to  their  papers,  and  repeating  the  magis- 
trate's scathing  rebuke  to  the  police  of  the  pre- 
cinct and  the  city,  so  that  Bob  could  not  see  them. 
And,  after  lingering  a  moment  or  so,  he  finally 
decided  to  return  to  his  guardian  without  more 
delay,  promising  himself  that  he  would  search 
out  his  champion  and  thank  him  another  time. 


CHAPTER  IV 

BOB  DETERMINES  TO  BE  HIS  OWN  MASTER 

FEARING  that  if  he  hurried  too  fast  through 
the  dismal  corridors  of  the  court  building  he 
might  arouse  suspicion  and  get  into  more  trouble, 
Bob  restrained  his  impulse  to  break  into  a  run, 
and  endeavored  to  walk  as  unconcernedly  as  pos- 
sible. But  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  vast  relief 
that  he  stepped  forth  from  the  stone  portal  and 
again  breathed  the  free  air  of  the  street. 

Once  he  had  reached  the  sidewalk,  not  long 
did  it  take  him  to  mingle  with  the  throng  of  pas- 
sersby. 

Like  a  bad  dream  did  the  trying  experiences 
through  which  he  had  passed  seem,  and  he  actu- 
ally pinched  himself  to  see  if,  after  all,  it  might 
not  have  been  some  sleep  delusion.  But  the  pain 
of  the  sharp  nip  he  gave  himself  satisfied  him 
that  he  was  indeed  awake,  and  further  evidence 
of  the  fact  that  his  experiences  had  been  all  too 
real  was  given  by  the  presence  of  the  five-dollar 
bill  in  his  pocket. 

31 


32  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

His  pace  had  been  rapid,  and  he  was  within 
two  blocks  of  his  guardian's  store,  when  he  sud- 
denly remembered  that  the  basket  full  of  grocer- 
ies, which  he  had  started  out  to  deliver,  had  been 
left  in  the  police  station. 

That  his  employer  would  berate  him  sharply 
for  their  loss,  he  was  aware,  yet  he  dared  npt  go 
for  them  in  the  fear  that  he  might  be  subjected 
to  further  unpleasantness. 

His  steps,  however,  grew  slower  and  slower  as 
he  approached  the  store,  which  had  been  the 
only  home  he  had  known  for  years.  That  his 
guardian  knew  of  his  arrest,  the  words  of  his 
champion  to  the  magistrate  had  told  him.  How 
his  guardian  would  take  the  double  blow  of  the 
loss  of  the  groceries  and  his  arrest,  he  did  not 
know,  but  past  experience  told  him  that  he  could 
expect  no  sympathy,  and  perhaps  a  beating,  and 
he  was  sorely  tempted  not  to  return  at  all,  but 
to  strike  out  for  the  great  West  of  his  hopes  and 
ambitions.  In  this  moment  of  indecision,  how- 
ever, the  admonition  of  the  magistrate  to  return 
to  his  guardian  recurred  to  him,  and  he  felt  that 
he  would  not  be  entitled  to  keep  the  five  dollars 
did  he  not  obey. 

To  Bob's  surprise,  as  he  entered  the  store,  not 
a  soul  was  visible,  but  at  the  sound  of  his  foot- 
steps on  the  hard  floor  his  guardian  suddenly  ap- 
peared from  his  private  office,  his  shrewd  face 


HIS  OWN  MASTER  33 

suffused  by  the  ingratiating  smirk  he  always  put 
on  when  going  to  meet  a  prospective  customer. 
At  the  sight  of  his  ward  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  however,  he  started,  and  then  his 
face  assumed  a  look  of  forbidding  severity. 

"What,  you  here!"  the  grocer  exclaimed,  as 
he  regained  control  of  himself.  "I  thought — that 
is,  I  was  told — I  mean,  I  heard  that  you  had  been 
arrested,  and  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  again  for 
some  time ;  that  is — I  mean  not  here  in  the  store. 
If  you  had  been  sent  to  prison  I  should,  of  course, 
have  gone  to  see  you." 

Never  before  had  Bob  seen  his  guardian  sC 
ill  at  ease,  and  from  his  knowledge  of  the  man, 
he  decided  that  his  entrance  must  have  interrupted 
him  when  he  was  engaged  at  some  unusual  task. 
But  how  to  meet  the  situation,  Bob  did  not  know, 
and  he  was  vainly  striving  to  think  of  the  right 
thing  to  say  when  their  relations  were  brought 
back  to  their  normal  plane  by  his  guardian 
snarling: 

"What  did  you  do  with  my  delivery  basket? 
Did  you  leave  it  with  the  groceries,  or  didn't  you 
even  deliver  them?" 

The  subtle  cruelty  of  this  remark  stung  Bob  to 
the  quick.  It  was  the  straw  that  broke  his  endur- 
ance of  the  long  term  of  abuse  and  harsh  words 
to  which  he  had  been  subjected. 

"No,  I  didn't  deliver  the  groceries,"  he  flashed 


34  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

back.  "I  had  to  leave  the  basket  at  the  police 
station  when  they  took  me  to  court,  and  after  the 
judge  told  me  I  could  go,  I  didn't  want  to  go 
back  to  the  place  for  it" 

"But  there  were  three  dollars  worth  of  gro- 
ceries in  it,"  wailed  his  guardian,  wringing  his 
hands.  "Here,  just  because  you  didn't  mind  what 
I  told  you  about  stopping  to  play  on  the  way 
when  you  are  delivering  orders,  you  get  arrested 
and  leave  me  here  alone  for  almost  four  hours, 
without  any  one  to  deliver  goods,  and  my  custo- 
mers all  complaining  because  they  don't  get  their 
orders.  And  as  though  that  weren't  enough,  you 
deliberately  abandon  three  dollars'  worth  of  gro- 
ceries. But  you'll  pay  for  them,  young  man! 
You'll  pay  for  them  1  Never  fear.  I  shall  take 
the  two  dollars  you  would  have  had  coming  to  you 
to-night  in  part  payment,  and  then  one  dollar 
from  your  wages  next  Saturday  night." 

For  an  instant,  Bob  was  tempted  to  produce 
the  five  dollars  the  kindly  magistrate  had  given 
him  and  pay  for  the  groceries  then  and  there. 
But  there  swept  through  his  mind  an  idea  fasci- 
nating in  its  boldness. 

As  he  stood  contemplating  the  thought  which 
had  occurred  to  him,  his  guardian  snarled: 

"Don't  stand  there  like  a  gawk!  You've  de- 
layed my  deliveries  long  enough.  Take  those  two 
baskets,"  and  he  pointed  to  two  bulging  packages 


35 

resting  on  the  counter,  "and  deliver  them.  On 
your  way  back,  as  you  will  pass  the  police  sta- 
tion, you  can  stop  in  and  get  the  basket  you  left. 
But  I'll  make  you  pay  for  the  groceries  just  the 
same.  It  will  be  a  good  lesson  for  you." 

If  anything  were  needed  to  determine  Bob  to 
put  his  idea  into  action,  it  was  this  command  to 
go  to  the  station,  and  he  exclaimed : 

"I  won't  go  there  to  get  your  old  basket!  I 
won't  pay  for  the  groceries,  and  I  won't  deliver 
your  old  orders !  I  am  going  to  leave  you.  I 
won't  work  for  you  another  minute,"  and  with- 
out giving  his  amazed  guardian  time  to  say  any- 
thing, Bob  darted  away  to  the  room  at  the  back 
of  the  store,  in  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
sleep. 

The  plan  he  had  decided  upon  was  to  get  his 
ten  dollars  and  enough  more  of  the  money  his 
father  had  left  him  to  pay  his  fare  to  some  town 
in  Oklahoma,  where  he  could  begin  his  long- 
dreamed-of  life  on  a  ranch.  He  would  not  be 
bothered  with  the  packing  of  any  clothes,  for  his 
guardian  had  never  allowed  him  any  extra  cloth- 
ing, and  he  had  nothing  but  the  suit  upon  his  back; 
but  he  did  have  his  money,  and  two  letters  which 
he  had  hidden  under  a  board  in  the  floor  that  he 
had  fixed  so  that  he  could  take  it  up  and  put  it 
back  whenever  he  wished. 

In  the  fear  that  his  guardian  might  follow  him 


36  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

to  the  room  and  discover  him  as  he  was  procuring 
his  money,  Bob  worked  with  feverish  haste  to 
lift  the  board,  and  so  excited  was  he  that  it 
seemed  as  though  he  could  never  raise  it.  But  at 
last  he  did  so,  secured  possession  of  his  treasures, 
and  then  put  the  board  back,  just  as  the  grocer 
called  to  him  from  the  doorway: 

"What  are  you  doing?  What  do  you  mean 
by  saying  you  won't  deliver  my  groceries  and  do 
what  I  tell  you?" 

Panting  with  excitement,  Bob  stood  like  some 
animal  at  bay,  his  eyes  flashing  defiance,  one  hand 
tightly  doubled  up,  the  other  clasping  his  treasures 
in  the  pocket  where  he  had  thrust  them. 

"I  mean  I  am  going  West.  I  won't  be  treated 
as  you  have  treated  me  any  longer." 

For  a  moment,  as  he  heard  the  amazing  an- 
nouncement of  his  ward,  Mr.  Dardus  stood  star- 
ing at  him  in  silence,  and  then  broke  into  a  mock- 
ing laugh. 

"So  you're  going  West,  are  you?  That  is  a 
good  one.  Why,  you  couldn't  even  get  across  the 
river  to  Jersey  City.  It  takes  money,  money,  my 
boy,  to  travel,  and  you  haven't  a  cent.  And  yet 
you're  going  West !  That  75  a  good  one.  Do  you 
think  the  trains  will  carry  you  for  nothing,  just 
for  the  pleasure  of  having  you  travel  on  them?" 
and  the  grocer  indulged  himself  in  another  burst 
of  laughter  at  what  he  considered  his  keen  wit. 


37 

But  the  next  words  of  his  ward  soon  drove  all 
mirth  from  his  soul. 

"I  expect  you  to  give  me  enough  money  to 
carry  me  to  Oklahoma  City  from  what  my  father 
left  me.  When  I  get  settled  out  there,  I  will  let 
you  know,  and  you  can  send  me  the  rest  of  the 
money  which  was  entrusted  to  you  for  me.  If  I 
took  it  with  me,  I  might  get  robbed." 

When  the  merciless  old  man  recovered  his 
breath,  he  exclaimed: 

"What  do  you  mean  about  the  money  your 
father  left  for  you?  Don't  you  know  he  didn't 
have  a  cent?  Don't  you  know  that  if  I  hadn't 
taken  pity  on  you,  fool  that  I  was — but  your 
father  did  me  a  favor  once,  and  so  I  thought  I 
could  repay  it  by  taking  you — that  you  would  have 
been  sent  to  an  orphan  asylum?  And  this  is  the 
return  I  get.  Here  I've  spent  my  hard-earned 
money  for  twelve  years  to  buy  you  food  and  cloth- 
ing, and  yet  you  dare  to  say  that  I  have  money 
for  you  which  your  father  left.  I  never  heard 
of  such  ingratitude." 

"I  know  that  you  are  not  telling  the  truth," 
retorted  Bob.  "I  have  a  letter  my  father  wrote, 
saying  that  I  was  to  open  it  when  I  was  ten  years 
old,  in  which  he  said  that  he  had  given  you  five 
thousand  dollars  to  have  me  educated." 

"What  nonsense!  What  an  outrage!"  ex- 
claimed the  grocer,  though  Bob's  statement  had 


38  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

caused  his  face  to  become  more  than  usually 
ashen-hued.  "I've  a  mind  to  thrash  you  for  say- 
ing such  a  thing.  Me  have  five  thousand  dollars 
of  yours!  I  never  heard  anything  so  preposter- 
ous!" 

"I  tell  you,  you  have  the  money.  Here's  the 
letter  that  says  so,"  retorted  Bob.  And,  as  he 
spoke,  he  drew  his  hand  from  his  pocket,  disclos- 
ing to  the  uneasy  gaze  of  his  guardian  an  envelope 
yellow  with  age,  worn  and  soiled  from  much  han- 
dling, but  upon  which  was  the  writing  which  he 
recognized,  all  too  well,  as  that  of  Horace  Ches- 
ter, Bob's  father. 

For  an  instant  the  grocer  glowered  at  the  boy 
and  the  letter,  and  then  his  shrewd  mind,  sug- 
gesting a  way  out  of  the  embarrassing  predica- 
ment in  which  the  boy  had  placed  him,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"Poor  Horace!  I  had  always  hoped  to  keep 
from  you  the  fact  that  he  was  insane  at  the  time 
of  his  death,  but  this  letter  makes  it  impossible. 
It  was  while  laboring  under  the  delusion  that 
he  had  money,  that  he  wrote  you  of  this  phantom 
bequest.  Poor  Horace !  The  sight  of  his  writing 
moves  me  deeply,  especially  as  I  have  to  disabuse 
you  of  the  delusion  that  I  am  holding  five  thousand 
dollars  in  trust  for  you,"  and  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  look  of  cunning  that 


HIS  OWN  MASTER  39 

appeared  in  his  guardian's  eyes  as  he  uttered  these 
words,  which  cast  such  a  stigma  upon  the  name  of 
the  boy's  dead  father,  Bob  might  have  believed 
him,  but  he  had  been  watching  his  guardian  in- 
tently. He  saw  the  look  of  cunning,  and  instead 
of  surrendering  the  letter,  he  hastily  thrust  it 
back  into  his  pocket. 

Forgetting  all  discretion,  as  he  saw  that  his 
plot  for  obtaining  possession  of  the  letter  had 
failed,  Len  Dardus  rushed  upon  the  boy,  with  the 
evident  purpose  of  obtaining  it  by  force,  exclaim- 
ing: 

"You  won't  give  it  to  me,  eh?  Well,  I  will  take 
it,  whether  you  want  me  to  or  not." 

But  Bob,  in  the  flush  of  his  youth,  was  quick 
and  agile,  and  it  was  no  task  at  all  for  him  to  dive 
under  the  arm  stretched  forth  to  seize  him,  and 
then  to  dash  through  the  door  and  out  onto  the 
street. 


CHAPTER  V 

BOB  MISSES  A  FRIEND 

NEVER  stopping  to  notice  in  what  direction  he 
was  going,  Bob  dashed  along  the  street,  fearful 
only  lest  his  guardian  would  pursue  him,  and 
expecting  every  moment  to  hear  his  voice  shout- 
ing at  him  to  stop.  But  as  the  moments  wore  by 
without  any  sign  of  excitement  or  alarm,  Bob 
gained  confidence,  finally  slackening  his  pace  to 
a  walk,  and  began  to  think  of  what  he  should  do, 
now  that  he  had  taken  matters  into  his  own  hands, 
and  severed  the  ties  of  years  that  had  bound  him 
to  his  guardian. 

Back  in  the  store  the  grocer  had  stood  unde- 
cided what  to  do.  The  knowledge  that  his  ward 
had  been  informed  of  the  bequest,  a  fact  which 
he  supposed  was  known  only  to  himself,  had  un- 
nerved him.  And  the  failure  of  his  attempt  to 
get  the  letter  and  thus  destroy  all  evidence  of 
the  trust  fund,  had  caused  him  to  be  seized  with 
a  gr*af  fear  lest  retribution  should  be  visited  upon 
DM)  i 

140 


BOB  MISSES  A  FRIEND  41 

Instead,  therefore,  of  going  in  pursuit  of  Bob, 
his  one  idea  was  to  conceal  himself.  Going  to 
the  front  door  of  the  shop,  he  closed  it  and  locked 
it,  and  then  betook  himself  to  his  private  office, 
the  door  of  which  he  also  shut,  and  sitting  down  in 
the  chair  buried  his  head  in  his  hands  and  tried 
to  think  what  was  best  for  him  to  do. 

But  his  sense  of  guilt  would  not  let  him  rest,  and 
in  the  thought  that  Bob  might  seek  some  lawyer 
and  place  the  matter  in  his  hands,  which  would 
mean  a  visit  to  the  grocery  store  and  the  necessity 
of  making  embarrassing  explanations,  the  dis- 
honest guardian  determined  to  go  away  for  a  few 
hours  at  least.  No  sooner  had  he  made  up  his 
mind  upon  this  course  of  action  than  he  seized  his 
hat,  stole  from  his  room,  glided  across  the  floor 
to  the  front  door,  listened  a  moment  for  the  sound 
of  voices,  or  any  other  indication  that  people  were 
passing,  then  hurriedly  turned  the  key  in  the  door, 
stepped  outside,  locked  the  door  again,  and  after 
a  furtive  glance  up  and  down  the  street,  slunk 
away,  keeping  close  to  the  buildings,  for  all  the 
world  like  a  dog  that  was  hounded,  rather  than 
a  man. 

It  was  because  of  this  action  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Dardus  in  closing  his  store  that  Foster  was  unable 
to  gain  admittance  when  he  arrived  half  an  hour 
later,  having  come  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the 
boy  he  had  championed  so  effectively,  and  of  as- 


42  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

sisting  in  a  reconciliation  between  the  ward  and  the 
guardian,  in  case  it  had  not  already  been  accom- 
plished. On  his  way,  his  mind  had  pictured  many 
scenes  in  which  the  boy  and  the  grocer  were  parti- 
cipants, but  none  of  them  had  contained  the  possi- 
bility of  the  store  being  closed.  And  it  was  with 
distinct  surprise  that  he  found  the  door  locked,  and 
was  unable  to  arouse  any  one  by  his  vigorous 
pounding  upon  the  weather-worn  panels. 

"I  wonder  what  it  means,"  said  the  reporter  to 
himself.  "Perhaps  Bob  didn't  come  back,  and  the 
old  man,  repenting  of  his  refusing  to  go  to  his 
ward's  assistance,  is  on  his  way  either  to  the  police 
station  or  to  the  court." 

His  occupation,  however,  necessitated  his  being 
resourceful,  and,  seeing  an  elderly  woman  peering 
at  him  closely  from  a  window  of  the  neighboring 
house,  Foster  hastened  toward  her. 

Bowing  politely,  he  asked : 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  Mr.  Dardus,  or 
Bob  Chester?" 

"Uhuh !  I  seen  'em  both,"  replied  the  woman, 
nodding  her  head,  as  though  to  confirm  her  words. 
But  though  Foster  remained  silent  in  the  hope  that 
she  would  add  to  this  information,  he  was  at 
length  obliged  to  renew,  his  questions,  as  she 
vouchsafed  nothing  more. 

"Were  they  together?" 

"No." 


BOB  MISSES  A  FRIEND  43 

"Which  way  were  they  going — in  the  same 
direction?" 

"No.  Bob  ran  up  the  street  as  though  the  po- 
lice were  after  him." 

"Then  Mr.  Dardus  was  chasing  him,"  sug- 
gested Foster,  jumping  at  the  conclusion  that  Bob 
and  his  guardian  had  had  angry  words,  that  the 
boy  had  run  away,  and  that  his  guardian  had  gone 
in  pursuit. 

"No,  he  wasn't.  He  came  out  about  twenty 
minutes  after  Bob  had  gone,  and  went  in  the 
opposite  direction." 

This  response  puzzled  the  reporter,  as  he  could 
think  of  no  plausible  explanation,  but  his  thoughts 
were  diverted  by  the  old  woman,  who  demanded: 

"What's  wrong,  mister?" 

"What  makes  you  think  there  is  anything 
wrong?"  parried  Foster,  determined,  if  possible, 
to  keep  the  knowledge  of  Bob's  arrest  from  so 
evident  a  neighborhood  gossip. 

"Because  Len  Dardus  closed  his  store  on  a  Sat- 
urday. I've  been  living  here  thirty  years,  and  he 
has  never  done  such  a  thing  before,  but  once, 
and  that  was  twelve  years  ago,  the  day  he  brought 
Bob  back  with  him.  So  I  know  that  it  must  be 
something  important,  or  the  old  man  wouldn't 
lose  the  opportunity  to  make  a  few  cents  in  his 
store." 

Struck  by  the  coincidence  that  it  was  because 


44  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

of  Bob  the  grocer  had  at  both  times  shut  up  his 
store,  Foster  considered  for  a  few  moments  what 
it  was  best  to  do,  and  then  said  with  ever  so 
faint  a  smile: 

"I  suppose  you  will  see  Bob  when  he  comes 
back?" 

"I  reckon  I  will.  I  see  most  everything  going 
on  around  here  that's  to  be  seen." 

"Then  I  will  be  obliged  if  you  will  give  him 
this,"  and  he  handed  her  one  of  his  calling  cards. 
%Tell  him,  please,  that  I  am  at  home  any  even- 
ing after  seven  o'clock,  and  should  like  to  have 
him  call  on  me." 

"I'll  be  glad  to.  I  suppose  you  may  be  some 
friend  of  Bob's  who  knew,  his  father?  I've  often 
wondered  why  no  one  came  to  see  the  boy  and 
take  him  from  that  man  Dardus." 

These  words  suggested  a  new  train  of  thought 
to  the  reporter,  and,  judging  from  the  remark 
that  his  informant  had  some  knowledge  of  the 
boy's  antecedents,  he  determined  to  learn  what 
lie  could  about  them. 

"Then  you  knew  Bob's  father?"  asked  Foster. 

"No.  I  can't  say  as  I  knew  him,  but  I  do 
know  that  I  wouldn't  treat  a  dog  the  way  Dardus 
has  treated  Bob,  and  I  have  often  wondered  why 
none  of  the  friends  of  the  lad's  father  came  to 
find  out  about  him,  or  to  take  him  away.  And  I 
made  up  my  mind,  as  soon  as  I  saw  you,  that  you 


BOB  MISSES  A  FRIEND  4$ 

one  of  them.  Anyway,  I  hope  so,  fo*  Bob 
is  a  real  bright  boy;  too  bright  to  be  working  for 
that  old  miser.  He's  fond  of  book  reading,  and 
I've  told  old  man  Dardus,  every  time  I  saw  him, 
that  he  ought  to  have  the  boy  educated." 

"Well,  I  am  Bob's  friend,"  said  the  reporter, 
"and  if  you  think  it's  a  wise  thing,  I'll  see  what 
I  can  do  about  getting  him  into  a  different  place. 
You  just  tell  him  to  come  and  see  me  the  first 
opportunity  he  has." 

And  again  lifting  his  hat,  Foster  bowed  and 
took  his  departure. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A   KIND-HEARTED   WAITRESS 

AFTER  Bob  had  found  that  no  one  was  pur- 
suing him,  he  decided  that  the  first  thing  to  do 
was  to  get  away  from  New  York,  and  with  this 
purpose  he  headed  for  one  of  the  ferries  that 
would  take  him  to  the  Jersey  shore. 

How  far  his  fifteen  dollars  would  carry  him, 
he  did  not  know,  but  he  realized  that  it  could 
not  be  any  great  distance,  and  he  was  trying  to 
think  of  some  plan  by  which  he  could  obtain 
more  funds,  when  he  suddenly  remembered  the 
reporter  who  had  taken  such  an  interest  in  him. 

"I'll  go  and  find  him,"  said  Bob  to  himself. 
"He'll  know  about  how  much  it  costs  to  travel, 
and  all  such  things,  and  perhaps  he'll  help  me  to 
get  some  work  where  I  can  earn  more  money. 
Anyway,  I  will  be  able  to  believe  what  he  tells 
me,  and  to  depend  on  his  advice." 

So  simple  a  solution  of  his  difficulties  gave  Bob 
new  courage,  until  all  at  once  it  flashed  upon  him 
that  he  did  not  know  the  name  of  his  benefactor, 
or  where  to  find  him. 

46 


A  KIND-HEARTED  WAITRESS 

As  this  thought  occurred  to  him,  Bob  stopped 
still.  However,  his  having  thrown  himself  upon 
his  own  resources  was  sharpening  his  wits,  and 
he  suddenly  exclaimed: 

"I  can  find  out  at  the  police  station.  Perhaps 
he'll  be  there." 

And  though  the  boy  was  fully  three  miles 
away  from  the  place  where  he  had  suffered  such 
outrageous  treatment,  he  turned  his  steps  to  re- 
trace the  distance. 

When  at  length  he  was  within  sight  of  the 
grim  building,  the  same  fear  of  entering  it  that 
had  made  him  refuse  his  guardian's  command  to 
fetch  the  basket  of  groceries,  again  seized  him, 
and  he  paused. 

"I  won't  go  in,"  said  Bob,  shaking  his  head 
decidedly,  "but  I'll  wait  over  by  that  pile  of  boxes 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  Probably  he'll 
be  coming  out  before  long." 

Though  this  plan  of  Bob's  would  ordinarily 
have  been  effective,  it  happened  that  Foster  had 
finished  his  work  for  the  day  even  before  he  had 
paid  his  visit  to  the  closed  store  of  Len  Dardus, 
and  thus  the  boy  was  doomed  to  disappointment, 
although  he  stayed  at  his  post  of  observation  un- 
til dark  began  to  fall. 

With  the  garish  flarings  of  the  street  lamps, 
Bob  for  the  first  time  realized  the  true  meaning 
of  the  step  he  had  taken.  Heretofore  he  had 


BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

always  possessed  a  home  to  which  to  go,  un- 
pleasant as  it  was,  but  now  he  had  no  place,  and 
#ie  contemplation  of  his  loneliness  caused  him 
to  grow  very  sober. 

As  the  pangs  of  hunger  were  added  to  his 
general  feeling  of  helplessness,  for  a  moment  he 
thought  of  returning  to  his  guardian,  but  only 
for  a  moment.  As  he  left  the  letter  in  his  pocket 
and  remembered  the  awful  stigma  his  guardian 
had  tried  to  cast  upon  his  dead  father,  his  pride 
arose. 

"I  will  never  go  back  there!"  he  told  himself. 
"I  have  money  in  my  pocket,  and  I  can  get  some- 
thing to  eat.  Then  I'll  go  over  to  one  of  the 
stations  in  Jersey  City  and  find  some  place  to 
sleep.  Perhaps  there'll  even  be  a  train  going 
out  West  to-night  that  will  carry  me  part  way 
to  Oklahoma." 

Coming  forth  from  the  pile  of  boxes  from 
which  he  had  sought  in  vain  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  his  friend,  the  reporter,  Bob  walked  up  the 
street  until  he  came  to  a  restaurant,  brilliantly 
lighted,  and  with  a  sign  standing  in  the  door  from 
which  the  words:  "Pork  and  Beans,  15  cents  a 
plate,"  stared  at  him  invitingly. 

Dearly  did  Bob  love  pork  and  beans,  but  only 
occasionally  had  his  guardian  provided  them,  and 
then  in  such  small  quantities  that  the  boy  had 
never  been  able  to  eat  all  he  wanted,  and  often- 


A  KIND-HEARTED  WAITRESS  49 

times  had  he  promised  himself  that  some  day  he 
would  have  his  fill.  Consequently,  as  he  read 
the  sign,  he  determined  to  gratify  his  desire,  and 
timidly  entered  the  restaurant,  where  there  were 
stools  in  front  of  a  high  counter  and  tables  along 
the  wall,  upon  which  stood  an  array  of  food  that 
amazed  him,  accustomed,  as  he  had  been,  to 
living  on  almost  nothing. 

Making  his  way  diffidently  to  one  of  the  tables, 
he  sat  down.  In  a  moment  a  waitress,  in  what 
seemed  to  him  a  dazzlingly  white  and  gorgeous 
dress,  approached,  and,  with  a  smile,  asked: 

"What  will  you  have?" 

"Beans,  please,  and  lots  of  them." 

"And  brown  bread,  too?"  asked  the  waitress. 

The  thought  of  this  with  his  beans  had 
never  entered  Bob's  head,  and  as  it  was  suggested 
to  him,  he  felt  a  great  longing  for  it.  Yet  as  no 
mention  of  it  had  been  made  on  the  sign  that 
had  attracted  him  to  the  restaurant,  he  feared 
it  might  be  too  expensive.  But  the  more  he 
thought  of  it,  the  more  he  wanted  it,  and  finally 
he  stammered: 

"How  much  does  it  cost?" 

"Five  cents  a  slice." 

"Then  you  may  bring  me  two  slices,"  replied 
the  boy,  laying  emphasis  upon  the  word  "two." 

"Coffee  or  tea?" 

"I  don't  believe  I'll  have  either,"  said  Bob, 


50  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

feeling  that  his  expenditure  of  twenty-five  cents 
Was  all  that  he  could  afford. 

Divining  the  reason  of  his  refusal,  the  waitress 
flmiled: 

"You  get  either  tea  or  coffee  with  the  order. 
It  doesn't  cost  any  more." 

"Then  I'll  have  coffee,"  replied  Bob. 

And  as  the  waitress  went  to  bring  his  order, 
he  again  felt  in  his  pocket  to  make  sure  he  had 
the  money  with  which  to  pay  for  his  meal. 

As  the  heaping  plate  of  beans — for  the  waitress 
had  not  been  scrimping  in  her  measure — was  set 
before  Bob,  together  with  the  rich  brown  bread 
and  coffee,  it  seemed  to  him  that  never  had  any- 
thing smelled  quite  so  savory,  and  he  began  to 
eat  as  though  he  were  famished. 

Though  the  plate  of  beans  had  been  heaping, 
so  good  did  they  taste  to  Bob,  that  he  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  ordering  more,  and  call- 
ing the  waitress  to  him,  he  asked: 

"If  I  have  a  second  plate,  will  it  cost  less?" 

For  a  moment  the  girl  was  on  the  point  of 
laughing  at  him,  but  the  wistful  seriousness  of 
his  face  checked  the  outburst  of  merriment  on 
her  lips,  and  instead  she  replied,  in  a  kindly  tone : 

"What's  the  matter,  kid?  Haven't  you  any 
money?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  Bob  hastened  to  reassure  her. 


A  KIND-HEARTED  WAITRESS  51 

"Well,  if  you  have  money  enough,  what's  to 
prevent  your  ordering  as  much  as  you  want?" 

For  a  moment  Bob  contemplated  the  question 
from  this  new  viewpoint,  but,  unable  to  decide, 
observed : 

"I  don't  just  know  as  I  ought  to  spend  any 
more." 

"Isn't  the  money  yours?" 

"Oh,  yes,  it's  not  that,"  rejoined  Bob,  and  then, 
after  hesitating  a  moment,  he  determined  to 
leave  the  decision  to  this  girl,  whose  face  showed 
that  she  was  kind  and  sympathetic,  and  he  said: 

"You  see,  it's  this  way:  I'm  going  out  West, 
and  I  haven't  got  much  money,  and  I'm  afraid 
I'll  spend  too  much,  because  I  don't  just  know 
how  much  it  will  take." 

"Well,  if  I  was  you,  I'd  eat  all  I  wanted  while 
I  had  the  money.  If  you've  got  to  'hobo'  your 
way,  there'll  be  times  when  you'll  probably  be 
without  both  food  and  money." 

This  reasoning  struck  Bob  as  being  eminently 
practical,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  ordering 
another  plate,  when  the  girl  made  it  unnecessary 
by  saying: 

"I'll  stake  you  to  another  plate,  if  you  want 
the  beans  very  much.  It's  just  about  time  for 
me  to  eat  my  supper,  and  I  will  bring  it  over 
to  your  table  and  eat  with  you,  and  I'll  make 
them  think  the  beans  are  for  me." 


52  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

Bob  wasn't  quite  sure  whether  such  a  plan 
was  all  right  or  not,  but  he  had  a  healthy  boy's 
appetite  for  beans,  and  so  he  made  no  objection. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  he  said,  when  the  second 
plate  of  the  savory  food  was  placed  before  him. 
"I  suppose  T  shall  be  hungry  sometimes  before  I 
get  to  Oklahoma,  but  I  don't  expect  to  'hobo*  it." 

"Then  how  do  you  expect  to  get  along?  You 
say  you  haven't  much  money." 

"I  guess  I  don't  just  understand  what  it  means 
to  'hobo'  it,"  admitted  Bob. 

"No,  I  guess  you  don't.  It's  the  name  they 
give  out  West  to  travelling  when  you  don't  have 
money  enough  to  pay  your  railroad  fare,  and 
have  to  beat  your  way,  riding  on  freight  trains." 

As  Bob  heard  this  explanation  of  the  term,  his 
eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  and  he  said  earnestly: 

"I'm  glad  you  told  me  about  it.  I'd  never 
thought  of  trying  to  steal  a  ride  on  a  freight 
train." 

"For  pity  sakel  How  did  you  expect  to  get 
away  out  there?" 

"Walk,  unless  I  could  earn  money  enough  in 
one  town  to  take  me  to  another." 

Bob's  conversation,  which  showed  such  a  re« 
markable  ignorance  of  the  world,  especially  in 
view  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  New  York  boy, 
suggested  to  the  waitress  that  perhaps  he  had 
run  away  from  home. 


A  KIND-HEARTED  WAITRESS  53 

Determined  to  find  out,  she  banished  the  sym- 
pathetic smile  from  her  face,  and  becoming  very 
severe,  leaned  across  the  table  and  gazing 
straight  into  Bob's  eyes,  asked: 

"Look  a  here,  kid,  you  haven't  run  away  from 
a  good  home,  have  you?" 

The  unexpectedness  of  this  question  took  Bob 
by  surprise.  Under  the  searching  gaze  of  the 
girl's  eyes,  he  felt  just  as  he  had  when  the  magis- 
trate had  glanced  at  him,  and  his  voice  trembled 
a  little  as  he  replied: 

"No!    Oh,  no,  indeed!" 

But  his  manner  was  not  convincing,  and  the 
girl  continued  her  interrogations,  but  on  a  differ- 
ent tack. 

"Your  folks  live  in  New  York?" 

"I  haven't  any." 

"Then  where  have  you  been  living?" 

"With  my  guardian." 

"What  do  you  do?" 

"I  used  to  deliver  groceries  for  him." 

The  stress  Bob  laid  upon  the  word  "used," 
led  the  girl  to  inquire: 

"Did  he  fire  you?     Or  what?" 

"No.     I  left  him." 

"How  long  ago?" 

"Just  this  afternoon." 

The  close  questioning  of  the  waitress  was 
making  Bob  very  uncomfortable,  and  he  deter- 


54  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

mined  to  tell  her  the  real  reason  he  had  left,  es- 
pecially as  she  was  so  kind  and  seemed  to  know 
so  much  about  traveling  in  the  West.  Having- 
reached  this  decision,  he  told,  with  many  hesita-. 
tions,  the  story  of  his  experiences. 

With  quick  sympathy  the  girl  listened,  and,  as 
he  concluded,  exclaimed  tenderly: 

"You  poor  kid!  I'm  sure  glad  you  happened 
to  drop  in  here.  I've  got  a  sister  living  out  in 
Chicago,  whose  husband  runs  as  far  as  Kansas 
City  on  a  freight  train.  I'll  give  you  a  note  to 
her,  and  her  man  will  give  you  a  lift,  and  prob- 
ably he  can  arrange  with  some  of  the  men  he 
knows  to  carry  you  west  from  Kansas  City." 

"That  will  be  very  kind  of  you,"  returned 
Bob.  "It  seems  as  though  strangers  are  kinder 
to  me  than  people  I've  known  all  my  life." 

"That's  often  the  way,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  as 
she  rose  and  went  up  to  the  desk  in  the  front  of 
the  restaurant,  where  she  obtained  some  paper, 
an  envelope,  and  pen  and  ink,  which  she  brought 
back  to  Bob's  table. 

It  was  evident  from  the  slowness  with  which 
her  self-imposed  task  advanced  that  the  girl  was 
more  ready  with  her  kind-hearted  sympathy  than 
with  her  pen.  But  at  last  the  missive  was  fin- 
ished, and  she  gave  it  to  Bob. 

"Don't  forget  that  address:  'South  loist 
Street,  on  the  left-hand  corner,  in  a  big,  yellow 


A  KIND-HEARTED  WAITRESS  55 

brick  building.'  It's  on  the  side  of  the  street 
nearest  New  York,  and  the  name  is  Mrs.  John 
Cameron/' 

Gratefully  Bob  took  the  letter,  which  he  placed 
with  the  one  written  by  his  father,  and  as  he  did 
so  he  asked: 

"I  wonder  how  much  it  costs  to  get  to  Chi- 
cago?" 

"Depends  on  how  you  travel.  You  can  go  in 
a  plain  car  for  about  ten  or  eleven  dollars.  That 
is  on  one  of  the  round-about  railways,  at  cut 
rates.  Or,  you  can  pay  between  fifty  and  seventy- 
five  dollars  for  a  state-room." 

"Oh,  goody!  If  it  only  costs  ten  dollars,  I 
can  get  out  there  all  right,  and  still  have  some 
money  left." 

"I'm  glad  of  that.  Now,  you  sit  here  a  few 
minutes,  and  I'll  put  up  a  lunch  for  you,  and 
then  you  won't  have  to  buy  any  food  while  you 
are  on  the  train.  They  always  charge  a  lot  more 
on  trains  or  in  station  restaurants  than  they 
ought  to." 

"Hadn't  I  better  pay  you  now?"  inquired  Bob. 

"No.  You  wait  until  I  bring  the  box  of  lunch. 
The  boss  hasn't  noticed  how  much  you  had  to 
eat,  and  he'll  think  it's  all  on  the  check  I  will 
ring  in." 

"But  that  isn't  exactly  right,  is  it?"  protested 
Bob. 


56  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Well,  I'll  make  it  right  with  the  boss." 

So  well  were  things  working  out  for  him,  that 
it  seemed  to  Bob  that  he  must  be  in  a  dream,  but 
the  sight  of  the  people  and  objects  about  him 
told  him  that  it  was  indeed  a  reality. 

In  due  course  the  kind  waitress  returned,  bring- 
ing a  sizeable  box,  tightly  tied,  which  she  placed 
on  the  table  before  him. 

"Here,  kiddo,  I  wish  you  good  luck,"  she  said. 
"I  must  leave  you  now,  because  IVe  got  some 
more  work  to  do." 

"But  you  must  tell  me  your  name,"  insisted  Bob, 
looking  at  her  with  his  eyes  filled  with  gratitude. 
"I'm  coming  back  from  the  West  a  rich  man,  and 
I  shall  want  to  look  you  up  and  repay  you  for 
your  kindness." 

"I  hope  you  strike  it  fine,  kid,"  laughed  the  girl, 
"but  I  am  afraid  if  you  do,  you'll  never  think  of 
looking  up  Nellie  Porter.  Oh,  by  the  way,  do 
you  know  to  which  station  to  go?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  admitted  Bob. 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  get  a  plain  car,  you 
want  to  go  over  to  Weehawken  and  buy  your 
ticket  over  the  West  Shore  railroad." 

And  giving  Bob  a  check  for  his  food,  the  girl 
smiled  upon  him  pleasantly,  and  hurried  away  to 
wait  upon  some  other  people  who  had  entered 
the  restaurant. 


CHAPTER  VII 

GOOD   LUCK   FROM   BAD 

BY  DINT  of  questioning,  Bob  reached  the  Wee- 
hawken  ferry  and  was  soon  on  a  boat,  gliding 
through  the  dark  waters  of  the  river  toward  the 
Jersey  shore. 

Never  had  the  boy  been  on  a  ferryboat  at 
night,  and  the  spectacle  presented  by  the  bril- 
liantly lighted  buildings  filled  him  with  wonder. 
Fortunate  was  it  for  him  that  he  was  so  en- 
thralled, for  the  boat  had  bumped  into  her  slip 
and  the  people  were  rushing  ashore  before  he 
had  time  to  realize  that  he  was  leaving  behind  all 
he  had  ever  known  of  a  home. 

Indeed,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  gazing  about 
him,  that  it  was  not  till  one  of  the  crew  ex- 
claimed: "Hey,  kid,  get  ashore.  You  can't  beat 
your  way  back  on  this  boat,"  that  he  knew  they 
had  reached  Weehawken. 

"I'm  not  trying  to  beat  my  way,"  rejoined  Bob. 
"I'm  not  going  back  to  New  York.  I'm  going 

57 


58  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

to  Chicago — and  then  to  Oklahoma,"  he  added 
in  a  boyish  attempt  to  impress  the  boatman  with 
his  importance. 

"Well,  you'd  better  hurry  if  you  want  to  make 
the  train  for  Chicago,"  returned  the  other.  "This 
is  the  last  boat  before  it  starts.  You'll  have  to 
hustle  if  you've  any  baggage,  or  are  you  travel- 
ling 'light'?" 

But  Bob  had  not  waited  to  hear  the  comment 
upon  his  lack  of  equipment,  and,  before  the 
words  had  left  the  mouth  of  the  boatman,  was 
running  up  the  gangway  and  into  the  station. 

The  glare  of  the  lights  after  the  darkness  of 
the  river  and  the  many  people  scurrying  to  and 
fro,  together  with  the  porters  and  trainmen  call- 
ing and  shouting,  bewildered  the  lad  who  had 
never  been  so  far  away  from  home  before,  and 
he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  station  as  though 
dazed. 

Noticing  the  woe-begone  figure,  the  station  po- 
liceman walked  over  to  where  Bob  was  stand- 
ing. 

"What's  the  matter,  kid?  Looking  for  some 
one?" 

"No.  I'm  going  away,  to  Chicago.  I  wish 
you'd  tell  me  where  to  go  to  get  a  chair  car." 

"Not  running  away  from  home,  we  you?" 
inquired  the  official,  scanning  Bob's  face  search- 
ingly. 


GOOD  LUCK  FROM  BAD  59 

This  constant  suggestion  that  he  was  running 
away,  angered  the  boy,  and  he  determined  to 
put  an  end  to  it. 

"No,  I'm  not,"  he  retorted  impatiently.  "I'm 
going  out  West  to  become  a  ranchman,  though 
I  don't  see  why  it  is  any  of  your  business.  The 
man  on  the  boat  told  me  I  would  have  to  hurry 
if  I  was  going  to  catch  my  train." 

"Got  any  money?"  inquired  the  policeman,  ig- 
noring the  boy's  manner. 

"Surely."  And  Bob  drew  forth  the  precious 
ten  dollars  he  had  managed  to  save  from  the  pit- 
tance his  guardian  had  paid  him  and  all  that  re- 
mained from  the  money  the  magistrate  had  given 
him. 

"AH  right.  Come  with  me.  I'll  show  you," 
responded  the  official,  assured  by  the  sight  of 
the  money  that  Bob  was  not  trying  to  steal  a 
ride  on  the  train. 

Quickly  the  two  made  their  way  to  the  ticket 
office. 

"Ticket  for  this  youngster,"  announced  the 
policeman. 

"Where  to?"  asked  the  agent. 

"Chicago,  in  a  chair  car,"  answered  Bob. 

"  'Leven  thirty,"  returned  the  man  in  the  ticket 
office,  turning  to  his  rack  and  taking  down  a 
long  strip  of  paper,  which  he  stamped  rapidly. 

With  trembling  fingers,  Bob  counted  out  the 


60  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

money,  and  shoved  it  through  the  opening  in  the 
window. 

"Correct,"  muttered  the  agent,  as  he  counted 
the  roll  of  bills.  "Now  hurry,  or  you  won't  get 
your  train." 

As  Bob  received  the  amazingly  long  ticket,  his 
breast  swelled  with  pride.  Its  possession  meant 
the  beginning  of  his  long-cherished  dream,  and  he 
started  to  study  it,  when  the  voice  of  the  officer 
warned  him: 

"Come  this  way,  kid.  Go  through  gate  No.  3. 
You  can  read  your  ticket  when  you  get  on  the 
train;  you'll  have  time  enough  before  you  reach 
Chicago.  Good  luck  on  your  ranch,"  he  added 
in  a  kindly  banter. 

But  Bob  had  no  time  to  reply,  for  the  train- 
men were  already  shouting  their  "All  aboard  for 
Chicago,"  and  it  was  only  by  running  down  the 
platform  that  he  was  able  to  get  on  a  car  just 
as  the  wheels  began  to  move. 

The  car  in  which  Bob  found  himself  was  up- 
holstered in  dark  green,  and  the  woodwork  was 
of  polished  mahogany.  Never  had  he  seen  any- 
thing so  magnificent,  and  as  he  sank  into  a  high- 
back  seat,  he  uttered  a  sigh  of  contentment. 

But  he  was  not  allowed  to  enjoy  his  luxury 
long. 

While  he  was  gazing  with  wide-staring  eyes  at 
everything  about  him,  a  colored  porter  entered 


GOOD  LUCK  FROM  BAD  6l 

the  c?r  and  languidly  glanced  from  one  to  an- 
other of  the  occupants,  as  though  making  a  men- 
tal calculation  of  the  tips  he  would  receive,  when 
his  eyes  fell  on  the  poorly-clad  figure  of  Bob, 
holding  his  box  of  lunch  on  his  knees. 

With  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  the  porter 
hastened  to  where  the  lad  was  sitting. 

"What  you-all  doin'  in  hyar?"  he  demanded 
harshly. 

The  tone  in  which  the  question  was  asked  now 
caused  the  other  passengers,  who  had  hitherto 
been  too  busy  getting  themselves  comfortably  set- 
tled to  notice  Bob,  to  turn  their  gaze  upon  him. 

"I'm  going  to  Chicago,"  returned  Bob. 

But  the  hostile  look  on  the  porter's  face  scared 
him,  and  he  could  not  help  a  tremor  that  crept 
into  his  voice  as  he  made  his  reply. 

"Whar's  yer  ticket?"  snarled  the  negro. 

Reaching  into  his  pocket,  Bob  drew  forth  the 
long  strip  of  paper  and  presented  it  to  the  offi- 
cious porter. 

"The  ticket's  all  right,"  grunted  the  man. 
"Now,  whar's  youah  pariah  cyar  ticket?" 

"My  what?"  asked  Bob. 

"Youah  pariah  cyar  ticket." 

"That's  all  the  ticket  I  have,"  returned  Bob. 
"Isn't  that  enough?  I  told  the  man  I  wanted  a 
chair-car  ticket,  and  that's  what  he  gave  me." 

"Hah !  I  thought  so.    This  ain't  no  chair  cyar. 


62  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

This  is  a  pariah  cyar.  The  cyar  you-all  want  is 
up  front,  four  cyars  ahead.  Now  get  out  of 
hyar  lively." 

"But  I  can't  get  out  while  the  train's  going," 
protested  Bob.  "I  might  get  hurt,  and — and  be- 
sides, I  want  to  go  to  Chicago,  and  if  I  get  off 
I'll  lose  my  train." 

And  in  Bob's  voice,  as  he  pictured  himself  in 
his  mind  left  beside  the  railroad  tracks  in  a 
strange  place  and  at  night,  there  was  a  plaintive 
appeal. 

"You  don't  have  to  git  off  ther  train,"  snarled 
the  porter.  "All  you  gotta  do  is  to  walk  right 
fru  ther  other  cyars,  three  of  'em,  mind  you,  and 
you'll  find  your  chair  cyar.  The  idea  of  you-all 
getting  into  a  pariah  cyar  with  a  chair-cyar 
ticket." 

Reassured  by  the  information  that  it  would  be 
unnecessary  for  him  to  leave  the  train  in  order 
to  reach  the  proper  car,  Bob  rose  from  tfae  soft 
and  luxurious  seat  slowly. 

"Come,  hurry,"  growled  the  porter,  making  a 
move  as  though  to  seize  Bob  by  the  arm  and 
drag  him  from  the  car. 

But  before  he  could  do  so,  the  stern  voice  of 
an  elderly  and  well-dressed  man,  who  was  occu- 
pying the  second  seat  ahead,  exclaimed : 

"Porter,  can't  you  see  this  boy  is  unaccustomed 


GOOD  LUCK  FROM  BAD  63 

to  travelling  ?  Why  don't  you  show  him  the  way 
to  the  chair  car?" 

"What,  me  take  that  crittur  fru  three  coaches? 
It's " 

But  the  negro  was  not  given  the  opportunity 
to  finish. 

Bumping  into  the  porter  so  that  he  knocked 
him  to  one  side,  the  man  who  had  taken  the 
negro  to  task  for  his  treatment  of  Bob  ex- 
claimed : 

"Then  /  will  show  him  the  way.    Come,  son." 

And  he  held  out  his  hand,  while  all  anger  had 
disappeared  from  his  face,  as  he  looked  at  Bob 
kindly. 

"My  name  is  Bob  Chester,"  said  the  boy,  tak- 
ing the  outstretched  hand  and  shaking  it. 

"And  mine  is  Horace  Perkins,"  returned  the 
elder  man,  unable  to  restrain  a  smile  as  he  thought 
of  the  unceremonious  introduction  to  himself,  who 
practically  owned  the  road.  "I  am  sorry  you 
should  have  had  so  unpleasant  an  experience." 

And  as  the  railroad  magnate  and  the  poorly- 
clad  boy  passed  from  sight  of  those  in  the  car, 
the  porter  moaned: 

"Oh,  lawdy,  lawdy!  Ah  sho  has  done  got 
mahself  in  a  mess." 

And  the  comments  of  the  other  passengers,  as 
they  prophesied  the  punishment  the  railroad  presi- 


64  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

'dent  would  inflict  on  his  uncivil  employee,  told  him 
that  they  agreed  with  his  opinion  thoroughly. 

As  Bob  and  his  distinguished  guide  reached 
the  chair  car,  the  latter  beckoned  to  the  brake- 
man  and  said: 

"I  am  Mr.  Perkins.  I  presume  you  know  that 
I  am  the  president  of  this  road.  I  want  you  to 
keep  an  eye  on  this  boy.  He  isn't  accustomed  to 
travelling.  He'll  probably  need  something  to 
eat  to-morrow,  so  either  take  him  into  one  of  the 
railroad  restaurants,  or  bring  him  some  lunch 
into  the  car.  Here's  some  money  for  his  meals." 

But  before  his  benefactor  could  withdraw  his 
hand  from  his  pocket,  Bob  exclaimed: 

"I  have  my  lunch  with  me,  right  here  in  this 
box,  Mr.  Perkins.  I'm  just  as  much  obliged  to 
you,  though." 

A  moment  the  railroad  president  hesitated, 
then  realizing  from  the  look  on  Bob's  face  that  he 
would  give  offense  should  he  press  his  gift,  he 
smiled  and  said: 

"All  right,  son.  Just  as  you  wish.  But  I 
want  you  to  be  my  guest  at  breakfast  in  the 
morning." 

And  again  shaking  hands  with  Bob,  Mr.  Per- 
kins left  the  car. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BOB'S   LUCK   CONTINUES 

AFTER  the  railroad  president  had  left  the  car, 
the  brakeman  found  a  chair  for  Bob,  and  showed 
him  how  to  work  its  mechanism  so  that  he  could 
drop  it  back  when  he  wished  to  go  to  sleep,  all 
the  while  eyeing  the  poorly-dressed  lad  with  evi- 
(dent  curiosity,  which  finally  he  could  no  longer 
restrain,  and  he  asked: 

"Have  you  known  Mr.  Perkins  long?" 
"No,"  replied  Bob.    "I  only  met  him  to-night." 
"You  must  have  made  a  hit  with  him." 
"No.     I  just  think  he  is  very  kind." 
"Huh!     That's  a  new  one.     You're  the  first 
one  that  ever  called  old  Perkins  kind.     If  you 
could  hear  some  of  the  men  talk  about  how  he 
has  treated  them,  you  wouldn't  think  he  was  so 
kind." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  I  only  know  he  was 
very  kind  to  me,"  returned  Bob,  "and  I  like  him. 
If  his  men  were  honest  and  square  with  him,  I 
think  he  would  be  with  them." 

65 


66  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

The  approach  of  the  train  to  a  station,  neces- 
sitating the  member  of  the  train  crew  going  about 
his  duty,  prevented  him  from  plying  Bob  further 
with  questions,  much  to  the  latter's  relief. 

Placing  his  box  of  lunch  on  the  floor  beside 
him,  Bob  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  partially  closed 
his  eyes,  and  gazed  about  him  at  the  other 
passengers.  But  there  was  none  who  interested 
him,  and  he  soon  turned  his  mind  to  the  contem- 
plation of  his  position. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  he  could  realize  that 
he  was  actually  on  his  way  to  the  great  West. 
But  the  steady  motion  of  the  train,  the  whirl  of 
the  wheels,  and  the  occasional  blast  of  the  en- 
gine's whistle,  told  him  that  he  was  not  dreaming, 
and  after  enjoying  for  a  while  the  sensation  of 
travelling  he  began  to  think  about  what  he  should 
do  when  he  reached  Chicago. 

He  had  read  much  of  the  enormous  area  the 
city  covered,  and  he  wondered  if  he  would  have 
any  difficulty  in  finding  the  home  of  the  woman 
whose  husband  was  to  form  such  a  necessary  link 
in  his  travelling  arrangements. 

"Suppose  she  shouldn't  be  at  home,  or  sup- 
pose Mr.  Cameron  doesn't  feel  like  helping  me? 
I  guess  under  those  circumstances  it  would  be  nec- 
essary for  me  to  get  a  job  somewhere.  But  I 
won't  be  an  errand  boy  in  a  grocery  store,"  he 
promised  himself.  But  with  the  custom  of  look- 


BOB'S  LUCK  CONTINUES  67 

ing  only  on  the  bright  side  of  things,  which  is  a 
fortunate  habit  of  youth,  he  began  to  think  of 
the  good  times  he  would  have  riding  the  horses 
on  the  plains,  and  of  watching  the  cowboys  as  they 
roped  the  steers  and  branded  them.  And  his 
fancy  even  pictured  himself  as  a  successful  par- 
ticipant in  various  nerve-stirring  contests. 

"I  may  be  from  the  East,  but  I  won't  let  them 
call  me  a  tenderfoot,"  Bob  exclaimed  earnestly; 
"and  I'll  try  and  get  on  the  right  side  of  them,  so 
they  won't  play  tricks  on  me." 

Bob's  idea  of  cowboys  had  been  gathered  from 
his  readiag  of  many  stories  of  life  on  the  plains, 
and  was,  therefore,  rather  vague.  And  it  was 
while  holding  imaginary  conversations  with 
ranchmen  conjured  from  his  brain,  that  his  body, 
wearied  by  the  unusual  events  through  which  he 
had  passed,  grew  quiet,  and  he  finally  dropped  off 
to  sleep. 

The  motion  of  the  train  and  frequent  stops 
affected  him  not  at  all,  and  as  soundly  as  though 
he  were  in  the  bed  at  the  rear  of  the  grocer's 
shop,  he  slept  through  the  night. 

Mindful  of  Mr.  Perkins'  request  that  he  look 
after  Bob,  the  brakeman  brought  a  coat  with 
which  he  covered  the  boy,  as  the  chill  of  night 
settled  on  the  car,  and  several  times  as  he  passed 
he  tucked  it  about  Bob,  when  his  moving  had 
caused  it  to  slide  to  the  floor. 


68  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

About  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  train- 
man, after  having  waited  in  vain  for  Bob  to  wak* 
of  his  own  accord,  shook  him  gently  by  the  shoul- 
der, exclaiming: 

"Come,  son,  it's  time  you  were  up  and  doing, 
if  you  are  going  to  have  breakfast  with  the  'old 
man/  He  is  liable  to  send  in  any  time  for  you 
now,  and  after  you  have  known  him  as  long  as 
I  have,  you'll  learn  that  he  doesn't  like  to  be  kept 
waiting." 

"But  where  am  I  going  to  wash  my  face  and 
hands?  Doesn't  the  train  stop  at  the  station?" 

At  this  naive  question,  the  brakeman  looked 
at  Bob  for  a  moment,  and  then  chuckling  heartily 
to  himself,  exclaimed: 

"Say,  kid,  are  you  trying  to  jolly  me,  or  have 
you  been  kept  in  a  glass  cage  all  your  life?  Don't 
you  know  that  they  have  washrooms  on  the 
trains?" 

"No.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  taken 
a  journey  on  a  train  in  my  life." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"To  Chicago,  first,  and  then  out  to  Oklahoma.* 

"Well,  that's  far  enough,  so  that  if  you  don't 
know  anything  about  travelling  now,  you  will 
when  you  get  there.  What  part  of  Oklahoma 
are  you  going  to?" 

"I  don't  just  know  exactly,"  and  then,  his 
breast  swelling  with  pride,  he  continued:  "I'm 


BOB'S  LUCK  CONTINUES  69 

going  on  a  ranch,  but  I  haven't  decided  quite  yet 
where." 

"Folks  live  out  there?     Going  to  friends?" 

"No." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  know  your  own  business, 
but  taking  it  all  in  all,  if  I  was  you,  I  think  I'd 
stay  East  among  people  I  knew,  and  whose  ways 
I  was  used  to." 

"I  don't  believe  you  would  if  you  were  me," 
said  Bob,  and  then  tiring  of  the  questioning,  he 
said :  "I  thought  you  were  going  to  show  me  the 
washroom.  I  want  to  be  ready  when  Mr.  Per- 
kins sends  for  me." 

Smiling  at  the  manner  in  which  Bob  changed 
the  conversation,  the  brakeman  led  him  to  the 
lavatory,  and  soon  Bob  had  made  his  very  primi- 
tive toilet. 

In  his  endeavor  to  make  himself  as  presentable 
as  possible,  he  had  washed  and  wiped  his  face 
so  vigorously  that  it  almost  shone.  And  no 
sooner  had  he  finished  the  task  than  the  brake- 
man put  his  head  in  the  door,  and  said: 

"All  ready,  kid?  Mr.  Perkins  has  sent  for 
you." 

Going  out  into  the  car,  Bob  saw  a  negro  clad 
in  a  suit  of  immaculate  linen. 

"Is  you  Mr.  Chester?"  asked  the  darky,  re- 
straining the  smile  Bob's  appearance  produced. 


TO  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"My  name's  Bob  Chester,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  returned  the  boy. 

"Then  you'se  to  come  with  me  to  the  dining- 
car,  where  Mr.  Perkins  is  waiting  for  you." 

Without  more  delay,  the  negro  led  the  way. 

Unmindful  of  the  glances  indicative  of  curiosity 
that  were  cast  at  him,  Bob  followed  his  guide  into 
the  dining-car. 

As  the  railroad  president  saw'  his  youthful 
guest  approach,  he  arose,  and  with  punctilious 
ceremony  shook  Bob's  hand,  murmuring: 

"I  hope  you  slept  well,  Bob?" 

"Very,  thank  you.  I  don't  think  I  should  have 
been  awake  now,  if  the  brakeman  hadn't  called 
me.  He  was  very  kind  to  me." 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  smiled  the  official.  "What 
would  you  like  to  eat?" 

"Most  anything,  thank  you." 

"Then  suppose  you  let  me  order  for  you." 

This  suggestion  brought  great  relief  to  Bob, 
and  he  listened  with  wide  eyes  as  he  heard  the 
order  for  strawberries,  bacon  and  eggs,  buck- 
wheat cakes,  maple  syrup  and  coffee. 

"Does  that  selection  meet  with  your  approval?" 
smiled  the  railroad  president. 

"Indeed  it  does,  sir!  Next  to  beans,  I  like 
buckwheat  cakes." 

"I  guess  all  boys  do.  I  know  my  sons  «t  home 
are  very  fond  of  them." 


?DOES     THAT     SELECTION     MEET     WITH     YOUR    APPROVAL?" 
SMILED  THE  PRESIDENT 


BOB'S  LUCK  CONTINUES  71 

Bob's  enjoyment  of  his  breakfast  was  so  evi- 
dent that  it  was  almost  pathetic.  And  as  Mr. 
Perkins  watched  him  eat,  he  wondered  what  the 
boy's  story  could  be,  and  from  having  taken 
merely  a  passing  interest  in  him,  his  desire  to  do 
something  for  him  became  keen. 

Under  the  discreet  guidance  of  the  railroad 
president,  Bob  was  led  to  tell  him  of  his  life  and 
of  the  experiences  of  the  day  before  that  had 
resulted  in  the  severing  of  all  ties,  and  the  taking 
of  so  radical  a  step  as  the  trip  to  the  West. 

As  he  listened  to  the  narrative,  his  mind  re- 
verted to  his  own  boys  at  home,  surrounded  by 
every  luxury  that  wealth  and  affection  could  give 
them,  and  he  wondered  if,  were  either  of  them 
placed  in  Bob's  circumstances,  they  would  have 
the  courage  to  do  as  he  had  done. 

When  Bob  had  finished  his  story,  Mr.  Perkins 
sat  in  silence  for  several  minutes,  evidently  in 
deep  thought. 

"I  think  you  have  chosen  the  wisest  course, 
Bob,"  he  finally  said.  "The  West  is  a  great  coun- 
try, and  you  have  qualities  about  you  that  I  think 
will  bring  you  success.  Of  course,  you  will  prob- 
ably be  obliged  to  stand  a  good  many  hard 
knocks,  but  they  won't  hurt  you,  my  boy.  Hard 
knocks  are  good  for  any  man.  The  only  thing 
to  be  careful  about  is  that  they  do  not  sour  you 


;2  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

and  cause  you  to  feel  anger  and  hatred  against 
your  fellows. 

"I  suppose  you  know,  of  course,  that  the  West, 
just  like  any  other  part  of  the  world,  contains  a 
lot  of  bad  men  as  well  as  good — only  out  West 
the  bad  men  are  more  noticeable  because  they 
act  more  openly,  gambling  and  drinking  and 
fighting. 

"You  must  be  very  careful  whom  you  choose 
for  your  companions.  If  you  make  up  your  mind 
to  treat  every  one  politely  and  with  kindness,  you 
will  soon  be  able  to  determine  who  are  the  ones 
whose  friendship  is  worth  having,  and  whom  to 
avoid.  But  if  you  wish  to  succeed,  you  must  keep 
away  from  the  saloons  and  gambling  dives. 

"This  may  seem  a  good  deal  of  a  lecture  to 
you,  but  if  you  follow  my  advice,  some  day  you 
will  thank  me  for  giving  it  to  you.  And  now, 
what  do  you  propose  to  do,  in  case  you  don't 
find  Mrs.  Cameron?  You  know  in  big  cities  peo- 
ple often  move,  and  it  may  be  some  time  since 
her  sister  saw  her.  Then  again,  perhaps  her 
husband  won't  prove  very  accommodating." 

"I've  thought  of  that,  Mr.  Perkins.  If  I  can't 
find  them,  I  shall  try  to  get  some  work  some- 
where, so  that  I  can  earn  money  enough  to  pay 
my  fare  from  Chicago." 

"You'll  succeed  all  right,  Bob,"  said  the  rail- 
road president.  "You  have  the  right  spirit  of 


BOB'S  LUCK  CONTINUES  73 

grit.  But  I  have  a  plan  which  will  do  away  with 
the  necessity  of  depending  upon  the  good  nature 
of  Mrs.  Cameron  or  her  husband." 

And  taking  one  of  his  cards  from  his  pocket, 
Mr.  Perkins  wrote  several  words  on  it,  and  then 
handed  it  to  Bob. 

"If  you'll  take  this  card  to  the  offices  of  the 
Grand  Pacific,  which  you  will  find  in  the  building 
directly  across  from  the  station  where  we  arrive 
in  Chicago,  they  will  give  you  a  pass,  which  will 
carry  you  to  any  part  of  Oklahoma  you  desire 
to  go.  I  want  you  to  accept  it  as  a  present  from 
me.  You  can  tell  them  to  what  place  to  make  it 
out,  and  as  it  will  take  many  hours  to  reach  your 
destination,  I  want  you  to  accept  this  money,  so 
that  you  can  buy  your  food."  And  he  handed 
Bob  a  twenty-dollar  bill.  "If  you  are  careful, 
you  will  have  something  left  when  you  reach  that 
part  of  Oklahoma  to  which  you  decide  to  go." 

Before  Bob  could  recover  sufficiently  from  his 
surprise  to  express  his  thanks,  Mr.  Perkins  had 
arisen,  and  saying  that  it  was  necessary  for  him 
to  get  off  the  train  at  the  next  station,  went  back 
to  his  car,  leaving  Bob  in  contemplation  of  his 
pass  and  money. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   TALE    OF   THE    PLAINS 

PLACING  in  his  pocket  the  money  and  the  pre- 
cious piece  of  pasteboard  which  possessed  the 
magic  power  of  procuring  for  him  transportation 
to  the  land  of  his  dreams,  Bob  rose  from  the 
breakfast-table  and  made  his  way  back  to  his 
chair. 

As  the  train  stopped  at  one  station  after  an- 
other, people  kept  getting  aboard,  and  soon  the 
car  in  which  Bob  was  riding  was  filled  to  its  ca- 
pacity. 

Having  nothing  better  to  do,  the  lad  amused 
himself  by  studying  each  new  passenger,  and  he 
was  amusing  himself  in  trying  to  assign  them  to 
their  proper  vocations,  when  he  was  attracted 
to  the  man  who  came  in  and  took  the  seat  directly 
in  front  of  him. 

Tall  and  inordinately  thin,  the  man's  clothes 
seemed  simply  to  hang  from  his  shoulders.  His 
hair,  of  a  curious  rusty  gray,  seemed  to  stick 
Out  from  under  the  faded  straw  hat,  and  his 

74 


A  TALE  OF  THE  PLAINS  75 

whole  appearance  suggested  nothing  so  much  as 
a  scarecrow. 

Despite  the  man's  ungainly  appearance,  how- 
ever, his  face  was  one  that  would  attract  and 
hold  attention.  So  thin  was  it  that  it  seemed  as 
though  the  cheek  bones  would  any  minute  pierce 
the  bronzed  skin,  and  from  under  bushy  eyebrows 
two  restless  black  eyes  glistened. 

Like  Bob,  this  man  surveyed  his  fellow  passen- 
gers, giving  them,  however,  only  a  momentary 
glance,  until  his  eyes  rested  upon  Bob,  and  upon 
him  they  lingered,  glancing  him  over  from  head 
to  foot,  and  then  dropping  to  the  lunch-box  which 
was  on  the  floor. 

During  this  inspection  of  himself,  Bob  had  also 
been  examining  the  man  more  closely,  and  had 
discovered  that  his  forehead  was  marked  with  a 
deep  scar. 

"You  don't  happen  to  have  any  lunch  in  that 
box,  do  you,  that  you  would  be  willing  to  sell 
me?"  asked  the  stranger.  "I  didn't  have  time  to 
get  any  before  I  started.  In  fact,  I  came  mighty 
near  losing  the  train  as  it  was,  and  there  won't 
be  any  station  where  I  can  get  anything  before 
noon." 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  Bob;  "that  is,  I  have  some 
lunch.  But  I  won't  sell  it  to  you.  You  are  wel- 
come to  some  of  it,  if  you  would  like  it." 

How  the  man  had  been  able  to  divine  that  his 


76  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

package  contained  food,  Bob  could  not  under- 
stand But  had  the  boy  been  as  keen  an  observer 
as  the  stranger,  he  would  have  noticed  that  the 
paper  on  one  end  of  the  box  was  saturated  with 
grease,  causing  the  obvious  inference  that  some 
sort  of  food  was  wrapped  up  inside. 

"I  don't  like  to  take  your  grub  for  nothing, 
son,"  returned  the  other,  "but  I  sure  am  hungry. 
I  have  always  made  it  a  rule  never  to  accept  any- 
thing from  any  one  without  giving  something  in 
return.  So  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  If  you're  sure 
you  won't  accept  any  money,  and  will  give  me  a 
bite,  when  the  train  stops  for  dinner,  I'll  pay  for 
whatever  you  want  to  eat." 

"That  seems  fa<r,"  returned  Bob,  "but  I  should 
be  just  as  willing  to  give  you  some,  even  if  you 
didn't  return  it." 

While  Bob  had  been  speaking,  he  had  picked 
up  the  box,  broken  the  string,  unwrapped  the  pa- 
per and  opened  it,  after  which  he  held  it  out  to 
the  stranger,  saying: 

"Help  yourself." 

To  Bob's  surprise,  the  man  accepted  the  invi- 
tation literally — and  took  the  whole  box,  which 
he  rested  on  his  knee.  Though  it  contained  cake 
and  pie,  hard-boiled  eggs,  and  several  sandwiches, 
the  stranger  exercised  no  choice  of  selection,  but 
began  at  one  end  of  the  box  and  ate  everything 
just  as  it  came. 


A  TALE  OF  THE  PLAINS  77 

Naturally  Bob  had  supposed  that  the  man 
would  eat  possibly  only  a  couple  of  eggs  and  one 
or  two  sandwiches,  with  perhaps  even  a  piece  of 
cake  or  a  piece  of  pie.  But  as  he  saw  one  piece 
of  food  disappearing  after  another,  and  remem- 
bered that  the  stranger  had  asked  only  for  a  bite, 
he  wondered  what  he  would  require  to  make  a 
full  meal. 

As  the  last  piece  of  food  was  devoured,  the  man 
reached  down,  put  the  cover  on  the  box,  folded 
the  paper,  wrapped  up  the  box  and  set  it  on  the 
floor,  wiping  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his 
hand,  then  exclaimed: 

"My,  but  that  went  to  the  right  spot!  I  sure 
was  hungry." 

"Yes,  I  guess  you  were,"  assented  Bob,  a  bit 
ruefully,  for  he  had  expected  to  have  at  least  a 
portion  of  the  food,  put  up  for  him  by  the  kind 
waitress,  to  eat  during  the  day. 

The  stranger,  however,  ignored  the  insinua- 
tion in  Bob's  tone,  and  proceeded  to  talk  with 
him. 

"Going  far?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  to  Chicago." 

"That's  good.  So  am  I.  I'm  glad  to  have 
some  one  to  talk  to.  It  makes  the  time  pass 
quicker.  Been  visiting  in  the  East?" 

"No.     I've  always  lived  in  New  York." 

"Going  to  Chicago  on  a  visit?" 


78  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Not  exactly.  I'm  going  to  call  on  some 
friends,  and  then  go  on  to  Oklahoma." 

The  mention  of  Oklahoma  roused  the  stranger 
to  immediate  interest. 

"You  don't  say!    To  what  part?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly." 

"Going  to  Oklahoma,  and  you  don't  know  to 
what  part?"  repeated  the  man  in  surprise. 

"I'm  going  on  a  ranch  somewhere.  I  was  think- 
ing I'd  get  a  map  when  I  got  to  Chicago,  and  de- 
cide just  where." 

"Well,  if  that  don't  beat  anything  I  ever 
heard!" 

The  intonation  which  the  man  gave  to  his 
words  was  such  that  Bob  felt  that  he  must  give 
some  explanation  of  his  indecision,  and  he  re- 
turned: 

"You  see,  I'm  going  to  be  a  cowboy  first,  and 
then  a  ranch  owner,  and  I  didn't  want  to  decide 
where  to  go  until  I  could  find  out  where  I  would 
have  the  best  chance." 

"Well,  it  certainly  is  fortunate  that  fate  led  me 
to  get  into  this  car  of  all  on  the  train.  I  can  tell 
you  just  the  place  for  you  to  go." 

"Have  you  ever  been  to  Oklahoma?"  inquired 
Bob. 

"Have  I  ever  been  there?  Well,  son,  I  was 
there  off  and  on  for  about  ten  years,  when  the 
government  first  opened  up  the  land,  and  yov 


A  TALE  OF  THE  PLAINS  79 

could  travel  for  miles  without  seeing  anything 
but  Injuns." 

The  knowledge  that  his  companion  was  fa- 
miliar with  Oklahoma  set  Bob's  heart  bearing 
rapidly,  and  the  thought  that  he  could  gather 
much  useful  information  from  this  peculiar  man 
caused  him  to  forget  all  annoyance  over  the  loss 
of  his  lunch. 

"Then  you've  really  seen  a  live  Indian?"  asked 
Bob,  his  eyes  big  with  excitement. 

"I  seen  too  many  of  the  critters.  See  that 
scar?" 

And  he  tapped  his  forehead  with  one  of  his 
long  fingers. 

"Yes,"  said  Bob  eagerly. 

"Well,  it  was  an  Injun  gave  me  that;  Flying 
Horse,  they  called  him." 

At  the  memory  of  what  had  evidently  been 
an  exciting  adventure,  the  man  lapsed  into  silence, 
as  though  he  were  re-enacting  the  events  in  his 
mind. 

To  Bob  his  silence  was  tantalizing.  He  longed 
to  hear  of  the  experience,  and  yet  he  hesitated  to 
ask  point-blank.  His  interest  was  so  keen,  how- 
ever, that  he  could  not  restrain  himself  entirely, 
and  he  squirmed  restively  in  his  chair. 

The  movement  had  the  effect  of  recalling  the 
man  from  his  memories,  and  gazing  at  the  lad's 
eager  face,  his  own  broke  into  a  smile,  as  he  said: 


8o  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"I  suppose  you'd  like  to  know  how  it  hap« 
pened?" 

"Indeed  I  should." 

"I  was  punching  cows  for  an  old  fellow  called 
Sam  Ford;  a  man  so  mean  you  could  pull  the  pith 
out  of  a  horse-hair  and  then  put  his  soul  inside, 
and  it  would  rattle. 

"But  this  story  don't  concern  old  Sam,  except 
in  so  far  as  I  was  working  for  him.  He'd  got 
together  a  fine  bunch  of  cattle.  Where  he  got 
'em,  no  one  ever  knew  exactly,  and  in  them  days 
it  wasn't  what  you'd  call  healthy  to  ask  questions. 
Indeed,  I've  seen  many  a  perfectly  healthy  man 
took  off  sudden,  just  because  he  got  inquisitive 
about  su'thin',  that  wasn't  none  of  his  business  in 
the  first  place.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 
Sam  had  the  cattle,  and  I  was  punchin'  for  him. 

"One  day  Sam  come  to  me  and  said  he  wanted 
me  to  ride  over  to  a  creek  near  what  is  now  the 
town  of  Fairfax,  and  watch  a  bunch  of  about 
thirty  head  he  told  me  he  just  bought.  There 
was  a  pack  of  Crow  Injuns  that  we  knew  was 
somewhere  around  there.  But  in  them  days  it 
was  the  same  with  working  for  a  man  as  it  was 
about  asking  questions.  If  he  told  you  to  do  any- 
thing, it  was  up  to  you  to  do  it,  or  stand  the  con- 
sequences. So  I  saddled  a  flee-bitten  pinto  and 
set  out,  though  I  must  say  I  wasn't  particularly 
keen  on  going.  It  had  been  rumored  that  Sam 


A  TALE  OF  THE  PLAINS  81 

had  got  some  of  his  cattle  from  the  Injuns,  and 
we'd  always  expected  that  if  Sam  ever  did  die — » 
of  which  we  had  our  doubts,  because  he  was  so 
mean — that  it  would  be  at  the  hand  of  a  redskin. 

"After  riding  about  thirty  mile,  I  come  to  the 
cattle  all  right,  and  they  was  sure  a  fine  bunch. 
The  place  where  Sam  had  left  them  was  filled 
with  fine  grazing  grass,  and  there  was  a  'drink* 
near-by,  so's  I  got  to  feeling  a  little  better,  for 
I'd  been  afraid  I  was  going  to  have  some  trouble 
in  locating  water.  Sam  had  said  he'd  come  up  in 
three  or  four  days,  and  we'd  drive  'em  back  to 
where  we  had  the  main  herd. 

"The  grass  was  so  rich  that  a  baby  could  have 
looked  after  them  cattle;  they  stayed  so  close,  and 
i  was  taking  things  easy  most  of  the  time,  lying 
on  my  back  and  smoking. 

"On  the  second  night  it  was  cloudy,  and  I 
had  built  a  little  fire,  before  which  I  curled  uf> 
and  went  to  sleep. 

"How  long  I'd  been  asleep,  I  don't  know.  But 
I  do  know  that  I  was  suddenly  wakened  by  feel- 
ing something  sharp  drawn  across  my  forehead. 

"Opening  my  eyes,  I  saw  a  face,  hideous  in 
white  and  yellow  paint,  peering  into  mine. 

"Fortunately,  I  still  had  my  six-shooters  on  me, 
and  being  pretty  handy  with  them,  it  didn't  take 
me  long  to  put  an  end  to  Mr.  Injun. 

"Whether  there  was    more    than    one    buck 


82  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

'round,  I  didn't  know.  But  I'd  no  sooner  got  to 
my  feet  than  I  found  out,  for  on  all  sides  of  me 
the  air  was  split  with  their  awful  yells. 

"Dropping  to  my  knees,  I  crawled  into  the  long 
grass  as  fast  as  I  could,  and  the  only  thing  that 
saved  me  was  because  they  had  been  busy  with 
the  cattle,  and  didn't  know  where  I  was. 

"After  they'd  hunted  for  me  a  while,  they 
rounded  up  the  critters,  gathered  in  my  pinto, 
and  moved  away. 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  heard  'em  going  I  lit  out  in 
the  opposite  direction,  and  hoofed  it  back  tc 
Sam's." 


CHAPTER  X 

BOB   DOES   A   KIND  ACT 

As  THE  stranger  recounted  this  exciting  adven- 
ture, Bob's  eyes  grew  larger  and  larger,  and  his 
mouth  gaped  in  wonder.  Many  a  time  had  he 
read  in  story-books  of  similar  attacks  by  Indians, 
but  the  thought  that  he  was  actually  gazing  at  a 
man  who  had  been  through  such  an  ordeal  seemed 
too  delightful  to  be  true.  And  so  reverentially 
admiring  was  his  manner  toward  his  travelling 
companion  that  the  other  couldn't  but  smile  good- 
naturedly. 

"Where  did  you  say  that  place  was?"  inquired 
Bob,  after  a  silence  of  many  minutes,  as  he  retold 
to  himself  the  story  of  the  scar  and  pictured  the 
scene  before  his  mind's  eye. 

"Fairfax." 

"What  part  of  the  state  is  that?" 

"It's  about  the  middle,  as  east  and  west  goes, 
but  nearer  the  northern  than  the  southern  bor- 
der." 

"Are  there — are  there  any  ranches  near  Fair* 
fax  now,  do  you  suppose?" 


84  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"I  reckon  so,  though  it's  more  than  seven  years 
since  I  came  East." 

"Aren't  you  ever  going  back  there?"  inquired 
Bob,  in  a  tone  which  said  plainly  that  it  was  be- 
yond his  understanding  how  a  man  could  give  up 
life  on  a  ranch  and  settle  down  to  the  very  ordi- 
nary, prosaic  life  of  the  East. 

For  a  moment  the  man  looked  at  Bob  search- 
ingly,  and  then  replied: 

"I  reckon  that  it's  better  for  my  health  here 
in  the  East." 

But  the  significance  of  this  remark  was  lost  on 
Bob.  For  a  few  minutes  he  was  silent,  the  ex- 
pression on  his  face,  however,  indicating  that  he 
was  thinking  earnestly,  and  at  last  the  cause  of 
his  deliberation  was  explained  in  his  question: 

"Do  you  think  there  are  any  Indians  around 
Fairfax  now?" 

"Not  the  kind  there  was  in  the  early  days  when 
I  was  out  there.  The  government  has  tried  to 
make  them  like  white  people,  and  now  the  Injuns 
that  you  would  find  are  either  lazy,  or  they  have 
deteriorated  into  half-breeds.  Once  in  a  while 
some  of  the  bucks  go  on  a  rampage,  but  not  very 
often." 

"I  think  I'll  go  to  Fairfax,"  announced  Bob 
after  another  period  of  deliberation.  "You  don't 
know  any  one  out  there  with  whom  you  think  I 
tould  get  in  to  work,  do  you?" 


BOB  DOES  A  KIND  ACT  8$ 

"No,  I  can't  say  as  I  do,  and  besides  a  recom- 
mendation from  me  wouldn't  help  you  any.  But 
I  think  so  long  as  you  have  no  particular  section 
of  the  state  in  mind,  that  Fairfax  would  be  as 
good  as  any." 

Bob  lost  no  time  in  taking  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  afforded  by  his  companion  for  asking 
him  about  the  customs  of  the  cowboys  and  life 
on  a  ranch  in  general,  and  many  were  the  valua- 
ble pointers  the  stranger  gave  him,  some  of  which 
Bob  afterwards  remembered,  but  more  of  which 
he  forgot. 

Between  Bob's  inquiries  and  the  stories  whicK 
his  travelling  companion  narrated,  the  morning 
passed  quickly,  and  what  had  loomed  before  the 
boy  as  long  and  dreary  hours,  seemed  but  a  min- 
ute, so  entertaining  was  the  stranger. 

True  to  his  word,  when  the  train  pulled  into 
the  station  where  the  stop  was  made  for  those 
passengers  who  desired  to  get  lunch,  the  stranger 
insisted  upon  Bob  getting  out  and  eating  with 
him.  And  Bob  found  that  the  man's  appetite 
was  just  as  keen  when  he  was  paying  for  his  food, 
as  when  he  was  eating  that  provided  by  others. 

After  the  return  to  the  car,  the  interesting  sto- 
ries were  resumed,  and  Bob  had  little  opportun- 
ity to  notice  the  region  through  which  he  was 
passing,  new  and  unusual  to  him  as  was  its  seen* 


86  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

cry,  save  when  his  attention  was  called  to  some 
striking  feature  by  his  companion. 

"It  won't  be  long  now  before  we  reach  Chi- 
cago," remarked  the  man. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  admitted  Bob  with  a 
sigh.  "I  only  wish  you  were  going  out  to  Fair- 
fax with  me." 

"Oh,  well,  you'll  find,  more  likely  than  not, 
that  some  of  the  passengers  on  the  train  you  take 
are  bound  for  Oklahoma,  and  they  will  probably 
be  able  to  afford  you  more  assistance  and  infor- 
mation than  I." 

The  suggestion  made  by  Bob  about  returning 
to  Oklahoma  seemed  to  make  a  deep  impression 
upon  the  stranger,  and  he  lapsed  into  silence  from 
which  he  only  roused  himself  after  the  train  had 
pulled  into  the  station  at  Chicago,  when  he  jumped 
up  suddenly,  grabbed  Bob  by  the  shoulder,  shook 
him  with  a  gentle  roughness,  and  murmured: 

"Good  luck  to  you,  boy,  and  whatever  you  do, 
be  straight,"  and  rushed  from  the  car,  leaving 
Bob  bewildered  by  the  abruptness  of  his  depar- 
ture. 

Despite  the  evident  mystery  which  hung  over 
his  travelling  companion,  Bob  had  felt  more  at 
ease  when  he  was  with  him,  and  it  was  with  a 
sense  of  loss  that  he  saw  him  leave  the  car,  for 
the  boy  had  hoped  that  he  would  accompany  him 
to  the  railway  offices  while  he  got  his  pass,  and 


BOB  DOES  A  KIND  ACT  817; 

he  had  even  dared  to  think  he  might  be  able  to 
persuade  him  to  make  the  visit  to  Mrs.  Cameron 
with  him. 

But  the  man's  departure  had  shattered  his 
hopes,  and  Bob,  with  a  feeling  of  great  loneli- 
ness, mechanically  followed  the  other  passengers 
from  the  car  out  upon  the  wide  platform.  His 
feeling  of  isolation  was  made  even  more  poig- 
nant by  the  hearty  greetings  which  sounded  all 
around  him,  as  one  after  another  of  the  people 
who  had  arrived  on  the  same  train  were  met 
by  their  friends  or  families. 

Following  the  crowd,  he  passed  through  the 
station  out  onto  the  sidewalk.  There  he  stood  for 
a  moment,  searching  the  windows  of  the  build- 
ings across  the  street  for  the  name  of  the  rail- 
way offices  to  which  Mr.  Perkins  had  directed 
him. 

With  little  difficulty  he  spied  great  gilt  letters 
which  formed  the  words  "Grand  Pacific  Railway," 
and  picking  his  way  carefully  through  the  throng 
of  carriages,  automobiles  and  trucks,  which  were 
passing  up  and  down  the  street,  he  soon  reached 
the  building,  and  was  on  the  way  to  the  offices 
in  the  elevator. 

Entering  one  of  the  doors,  he  beheld  several 
handsomely  polished  desks,  at  which  busy  men 
were  seated. 

Who  the  proper  person  was  to  whom  to  pre- 


88  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

sent  his  card  for  a  pass,  Bob  did  not  know,  but 
after  scrutinizing  the  faces  of  the  various  men  in 
the  office,  he  selected  one  who  seemed  kind  and 
pleasant,  and  was  making  his  way  toward  him, 
when  he  was  confronted  by  a  boy  several  inches 
smaller  than  he  was,  clad  in  a  green  uniform 
trimmed  with  gold  braid,  who  demanded  inso- 
lently: 

"Here,  you!  Where  do  you  think  you  are 
going?  Who  do  you  want  to  see?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly." 

During  this  interchange  of  words,  the  office- 
boy  had  been  scanning  Bob  and  his  threadbare 
clothes  contemptuously.  And  at  the  lad's  reply, 
he  laughed  outright,  adding: 

"Well,  if  you  don't  know  who  you  want  to 
see,  you  can't  come  in  here." 

"But  I  want  to  get  a  pass  for  Fairfax,  Okla- 
homa," protested  Bob. 

"You  get  a  pass!  Say,  are  you  crazy?  Only 
the  general  managers  and  the  other  high  officers 
travel  on  passes." 

"But  Mr.  Perkins  told  me  to  come  here,"  as- 
serted Bob. 

To  what  lengths  this  determination  of  the  of- 
fice-boy to  get  rid  of  Bob  would  have  gone  there 
is  no  knowing,  for  the  official  whose  desk  was 
nearest  the  railing  in  front  of  which  Bob  stood 


BOB  DOES  A  KIND  ACT  89 

fcad  been  attracted  by  the  unusual  occurrence,  and 
as  he  heard  Mr.  Perkins'  name  spoken,  he  got  up, 
and  beckoning  to  Bob,  asked: 

"What  did  you  say  about  Mr.  Perkins?" 

"I  said  he  told  me  to  come  here  to  get  a  pass 
to  Fairfax,  Oklahoma.  That  is,  he  didn't  say 
Fairfax,"  added  Bob  truthfully,  "he  just  said  I 
was  to  get  it  to  any  place  in  Oklahoma  where  I 
wanted  to  go,  and  I  have  decided  I  want  to  go 
to  Fairfax." 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"Bob  Chester." 

"Well,  Mr.  Perkins  has  sent  us  no  instructions 
for  issuing  you  a  pass,  and  until  he  does,  we 
cannot  do  anything  for  you." 

And  turning  on  his  heel  the  man  walked  back 
to  his  desk,  while  the  office-boy  grinned  in  de- 
light. 

Bob,  however,  was  not  to  be  disposed  of  so 
easily,  and  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  he  drew 
out  the  card  given  him  by  the  railroad  president, 
and  s.aid: 

"But  Mr.  Perkins  gave  me  instructions  to  give 
to  you." 

The  man  who  had  left  his  desk  before  paid 
no  attention  to  Bob's  remark,  however,  and  the 
boy  was  wondering  if,  after  all,  the  card  would 
be  of  no  service  to  him  when  suddenly  the  door 


opened  and  in  walked  the  porter  who  had  drawn 
upon  himself  the  anger  of  the  railroad  president, 
the  night  before,  by  his  treatment  of  Bob. 

As  the  darky  entered,  one  of  the  clerks  hap- 
pened to  be  passing  the  rail,  and  he  exclaimed: 

"Well,  Thomas  Jefferson,  what  do  you  want 
here?" 

"Ah  eome  to  get  my  pay.  Ah  done  been  dis- 
charged." 

"You  discharged?"  repeated  the  other  incredu- 
lously. 

"That's  what,  and  by  the  'old  man'  hisself." 

"Why?" 

"For  not  treating  this  hyar  gemmen  wid  de 
respec'  Mr.  Perkins  thought  I  ought  to  when  he 
set  hisself  down  in  my  pariah  cyar,  when  his  ticket 
done  call  for  the  chair  cyar." 

The  tone  in  which  the  porter  made  his  reply 
was  so  loud  that  no  one  in  the  office  could  fail  to 
hear  it,  and  as  the  officials  had  already  received 
instructions  by  wire  to  pay  off  the  darky  in  full 
upon  his  arrival,  when  they  learned  that  the  shab- 
bily-clad boy  standing  before  the  rail  was  the 
cause  of  the  discharge,  they  evinced  a  very  lively 
interest  in  him. 

"The  kid  was  just  up  here  trying  to  get  a  pass 
he  said  Mr.  Perkins  had  told  him  to  call  for,'* 
returned  the  man  who  had  dismissed  Bob  so 
abruptly. 


BOB  DOES  A  KIND  ACT  91 

"If  the  gemmen  says  so,  den  you'd  better  give 
it  to  fcim,  if  you-all  don't  want  to  get  what  Ah 
got." 

Deeming  the  time  had  come  for  again  calling 
attention  to  his  card,  Bob  exclaimed: 

"Mr.  Perkins  told  me  I  was  to  present  this, 
when  I  asked  for  the  pass." 

Reaching  out  his  hand  for  the  piece  of  paste- 
board, the  man  who  had  refused  him  before, 
scanned  it  hurriedly,  and  said: 

"You  should  have  given  me  this  in  the  first 
place.  You  see,  we  don't  issue  many  passes  now, 
and  we  are  obliged  to  be  very  careful."  And, 
calling  to  one  of  his  clerks,  he  gave  him  instruc- 
tions for  making  out  the  pass  to  Fairfax,  after 
having  learned  from  Bob  that  that  was  the  desti- 
nation to  which  he  wished  to  go. 

"You'd  better  sit  down,"  said  the  official,  "be- 
cause it  will  take  a  few  minutes  to  get  it  ready." 

Bob  was  not  thinking  of  himself,  however. 
The  idea  troubled  him  of  the  porter's  being  dis- 
charged on  his  account,  and  after  a  few  moments' 
deliberation,  he  called  to  the  man  who  had  given 
the  instructions  for  the  writing  of  his  pass,  and 
asked : 

"Do  you  think  if  I  should  write  a  note  to  Mr. 
Perkins,  that  he  would  change  his  mind  about 
discharging  this  man?  I  don't  like  to  think  he 
should  have  got  into  trouble  on  my  account.  You 


92 

see,  I  don't  know  much  about  travelling,  and  I 
didn't  know  a  parlor  car  from  a  chair  car." 

Surprised  at  this  consideration  for  a  fellow  in 
a  boy  so  young,  the  official  smiled  as  he  replied: 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Mr.  Perkins 
.would  think  about  it,  if  you  asked  him.  He  seems 
to  have  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you." 

"Then  if  you  will  give  me  a  piece  ol  paper,  I 
will  write  to  him." 

And  when  the  writing  material  was  provided, 
Bob,  in  his  crude,  boyish  hand,  wrote: 

• 
"MR.  PERKINS  :    You  have  been  very  kind  to 

me,  but  I  am  sorry  you  discharged  the  porter.  I 
wish  you  would  take  him  back.  Please,  Mr.  Per- 
kins. From  your  friend,  BOB  CHESTER/' 

In  open-mouthed  wonder,  the  porter  listened 
to  the  conversation  between  Bob  and  the  official 
of  the  railway,  and  when  the  note  had  been  writ- 
ten, and  was  read  aloud  by  the  latter,  the  darky 
exclaimed: 

"Mistah  Bob,  you  sho'ly  am  kind.  Ah'll  take 
that  note  and  go  to  see  Mistah  Perkins  mahself, 
and  now  if  you-all  would  like  to  see  Chicago  a 
little  before  you  take  your  train,  Ah'll  surely  be 
most  glad  to  take  you  'round." 


CHAPTER  XI 

BOB  FAILS  TO  FIND  MRS.  CAMERON 

FOR  a  moment  after  the  porter's  offer  to  act  as 
ius  guide  in  seeing  Chicago,  Bob  thought  he 
would  accept  it,  and  accordingly  they  left  the  office 
together,  the  pass  having  been  made  out  and  de- 
livered to  the  boy. 

When  they  appeared  upon  the  street,  however, 
the  passersby  stopped  and  stared  at  the  curious 
pair — Bob,  in  his  worn,  ill-fitting  suit,  and  the 
darky,  very  black,  clad  in  the  latest  fashion — 
with  amazement. 

One  woman,  whose  hair  was  tinged  with  gray, 
and  whose  aquiline  features,  severe  clothes  and 
general  mien  bespoke  the  spinster  who  always  had 
time  to  meddle  in  other  people's  affairs,  exclaimed 
to  the  person  nearest  her: 

"There  is  certainly  something  wrong  here.  I 
feel  it  in  my  bones.  That  colored  person  is  taking 
this  boy  somewhere  for  no  good  purpose.  I  think 
k  is  my  duty  to  interfere." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  bother,"  returned  the  member 
93 


94  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

of  the  throng  whom  she  had  addressed.  "The 
boy  seems  to  be  going  along  willingly  enough." 

"But  I  think  it  is  my  duty  to  make  sure,"  per- 
sisted the  officious  spinster.  "My  conscience  will 
never  be  easy  in  the  thought  that  perhaps  if  I  had 
spoken,  I  might  have  saved  the  boy  from  some 
terrible  fate." 

During  this  conversation,  Bob  and  the  porter 
had  walked  almost  half  a  block.  But  both  of 
them  had  heard  the  first  remarks,  and  as  the 
would-be  rescuer  set  out  in  pursuit  of  them,  Bob 
chanced  to  look  back,  and  saw  her  coming,  fol- 
lowed by  several  of  the  crowd  who  had  first 
stopped  to  watch  them  in  the  hopes  that  they 
might  be  afforded  some  amusement  from  the 
woman's  interference. 

Unwilling  to  become  the  cause  of  a  street 
scene,  Bob  turned  to  his  companion,  and  said: 

"I — I  guess,  after  all,  it  won't  be  necessary  for 
me  to  trouble  you  to  go  about  with  me." 

"It  will  be  no  trouble,  and  Ah  sho'  am  willing 
to  do  most  anything  for  you  'count  o'  that  note 
you  gave  me  for  Massa  Perkins." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  hastily  returned  Bob. 
"I  was  glad  to  do  it.  I  only  hope  that  it  will  be 
successful  in  letting  you  get  back  your  job." 

"Ah  think  it  will,  but  Chicago's  a  pretty  big 
place,  and  Ah'm  afraid  something  may  happen  to 
you  so  that  you  will  miss  your  train.  It  goes  in 


MRS.  CAMERON  NOT  FOUND  95 

about  four  hours.  Is  there  any  place  particular 
you  want  to  go?" 

"Yes,  I  was  going  out  to  South  loist  Street." 

And  Bob  described  the  location  of  the  apart- 
ment house  where  he  expected  to  find  Mrs.  Cam- 
eron, the  sister  of  the  waitress  who  had  been  so 
kind  to  him. 

"Then  you  want  to  take  this  cyar.  It  runs 
right  by  the  corner,  and  when  you  come  back, 
you  keep  on  it  until  you  get  to  the  Northwestern 
station,  where  you  get  your  train." 

"All  right,  thank  you!"  exclaimed  Bob,  going 
out  into  the  street  to  hail  the  car  that  had  been 
pointed  out  to  him. 

The  porter  stood  on  the  curb,  evidently  with 
the  intention  of  seeing  that  Bob  got  aboard  with- 
out mishap,  until  turning  his  head  he  caught  sight 
of  the  sharp-featured  woman,  whose  comment  he 
had  overheard. 

"Ma  soul,  Ah  sure  don't  want  to  get  in  any 
argument  with  such  a  woman,"  he  muttered  to 
himself,  and  bolted  precipitately,  soon  losing  him- 
self in  the  crowd  of  pedestrians. 

The  flight  of  the  porter  seemed  to  confirm  the 
woman's  suspicions,  but  she  instantly  realized  that 
she  could  not  hope  to  overtake  the  darky,  and 
quickly  determined  to  hail  Bob. 

Rushing  into  the  street,  she  cried  in  a  shrill 
voice : 


96  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Little  boy!    Little  boy!" 

Bob,  however,  had  no  relish  for  an  interview 
with  her,  and  quickly  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
car  and  entered. 

Again  the  woman  repeated  her  cry,  but  Bob 
paid  no  attention,  and  it  was  with  great  relief 
that  he  heard  the  conductor  pull  the  signal-bell 
for  the  car  to  start. 

Determined  not  to  be  thwarted,  the  woman 
cried : 

"Mr.  Conductor!  Mr.  Conductor!  Stop  that 
car!" 

But  that  individual  had  developed  a  deafness 
as  sudden  as  Bob's  and  the  car  continued  on  its 
foray. 

For  a  moment  the  woman,  .her  philanthropic 
intentions  balked,  stood  on  the  car  track,  but 
realizing  that  she  was  making  a  spectacle  of  her- 
self, she  returned  to  the  sidewalk,  where  the 
gibing  comments  of  those  who  had  witnessed 
the  scene  caused  her  to  blush  with  anger,  and 
she  was  glad  to  escape  the  words  of  advice  that 
were  called  out  to  her  by  entering  the  doors  of  a 
convenient  store. 

As  soon  as  Bob  found  that  his  escape  had  been 
effected,  he  returned  to  the  platform. 

"I'm  glad  you  didn't  stop  the  car  for  that 
woman,"  said  he  to  the  conductor. 


MRS.  CAMERON  NOT  FOUND          9$ 

"What's  the  matter,  are  you  running  away 
from  her?" 

"No.    I  never  saw  her  before." 

"Then  why  did  she  call  you  to  stop?"  asked 
the  conductor,  his  tone  indicating  that  he  thought 
perhaps  Bob  might  have  picked  her  pocket. 

"I  don't  know.  When  I  was  walking  along 
with  that  colored  man,  I  heard  her  say  she  thought 
he  was  trying  to  take  me  somewhere  I  shouldn't 

go" 

Bob's  evident  lack  of  familiarity  with  Chicago 
and  the  circumstances  under  which  he  had  boarded 
the  car,  aroused  the  conductor's  curiosity,  and  he 
inquired : 

"Well,  was  he?" 

"No,  he  had  just  offered  to  show  me  about 
Chicago." 

And  then  Bob  told  enough  of  the  story  to  con- 
vince the  street-car  man  that  there  was  nothing 
improper  about  the  occurrence,  and  that  he  suc- 
ceeded was  evidenced  by  the  comment  of  the  con- 
ductor, as  he  said : 

"That's  just  like  some  women,  always  med- 
dling in  things  they  don't  know  anything  about. 
I'll  tell  you  when  you  get  to  loist  street." 

Bob  was  deeply  interested  in  the  scenes  through 
which  he  was  passing,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  scarcely  been  on  the  car  ten  minutes  when 


98  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

the  conductor  told  him  he  had  reached  the  street 
he  desired. 

Leaving  the  car,  Bob  walked  to  the  sidewalk, 
and  then  looked  about  him  to  get  his  bearings. 

Across  the  street  stood  the  yellow  brick  apart- 
ment house  the  waitress  had  mentioned,  and  as  it 
was  the  only  building  of  its  kind  thereabout,  he 
made  his  way  to  it. 

Entering  the  vestibule,  Bob  scanned  the  names 
on  the  letter  boxes  for  that  of  Mrs.  John  Cam- 
eron, but  though  he  looked  them  over  three  times, 
he  could  not  see  it. 

As  he  stood  wondering  what  to  do,  a  woman 
opened  the  door  to  come  out. 

Deciding  that  she  was  probably  one  of  the 
people  who  lived  in  the  building,  Bob  asked,  tak- 
ing off  his  hat,  and  bowing  politely: 

"Can  you  tell  me  if  Mrs.  John  Cameron  lives 
here?" 

"No,  she  doesn't." 

"Well,  she  used  to,  didn't  she?" 

"Yes,  right  across  the  hall  from  me,  on  the 
third  floor,  but  she  moved  about  six  weeks  ago." 

"Do  you  know  where  she's  gone?"  cried  Bob. 

"She's  moved  to  Kansas  City,  but  I  don't  know 
her  address.  Is  there  anything  particular  you 
wanted  of  her?" 

"No — that  is,  I  just  had  a  message  to  deliver 
to  her  from  her  sister  in  New  York." 


MRS.  CAMERON  NOT  FOUND  99 

"Well,  I'm  sorry  that  I  can't  give  you  the  ad- 
dress in  Kansas  City.  You  might  find  it  out, 
though,  from  the  janitor,  possibly,"  added  the 
woman,  and  smiling  at  Bob,  she  continued  on  her 
way. 

For  a  moment  Bob  was  undecided  whether  or 
not  to  ring  for  the  janitor  in  order  that  he 
might  inquire  about  the  address  of  the  waitress' 
sister,  and  then  realizing  that  there  was  no  neces- 
sity for  his  so  doing,  he  concluded  to  go  to  the 
station  and  wait  for  his  train. 

"It's  a  mighty  good  thing  I  met  Mr.  Perkins," 
said  Bob  to  himself,  as  he  rode  back  downtown 
on  the  street-car.  "If  I  hadn't,  I  suppose  I 
would  have  been  obliged  to  go  to  work  until  I 
could  get  enough  money  to  take  me  to  Oklahoma, 
and  it  would  have  been  an  awful  disappointment 
not  to  find  Mrs.  Cameron.  But  it's  all  right 
now;  besides,  I'm  better  off  than  I  would  have 
been  if  she  had  been  here,  because  I  have  a  pass 
clear  to  Fairfax,  and  her  sister  said  her  husband 
could  only  help  me  as  far  as  Kansas  City." 


CHAPTER  XII 

ALONE   IN   A   STRANGE   CITY 

ARRIVED  at  the  Northwestern  railway  station, 
for  a  time  Bob  wandered  about,  enjoying  the  nov- 
elty of  the  people  rushing  hither  and  thither  in 
their  search  of  either  friends  or  relatives,  purchas- 
ing tickets,  and  tending  to  the  baggage,  and  he 
wondered  how  they  could  accomplish  anything,  so 
great  was  the  hustle  and  bustle. 

In  the  course  of  his  wanderings,  he  chanced 
upon  the  station  restaurant,  and  though  in  his  ex- 
citement and  the  novelty  of  the  scenes  about  him, 
he  had  not  thought  of  eating,  the  sight  of  food 
suddenly  roused  his  hunger,  and  he  went  up  to 
one  of  the  counters. 

The  prices  of  the  food,  however,  amazed  him, 
and  it  was  several  minutes  before  he  had  picked 
out  anything  that  he  wanted  that  did  not  cost 
too  much. 

So  long  did  Bob  linger  over  the  consumption  of 
the  modest  repast  he  had  ordered,  that  the  wait- 
ress began  to  eye  him  with  suspicion.  And  finally 
she  exclaimed: 

100 


ALONE  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY          lor 

"Say!  how  long  do  you  think  you  can  stay 
here  eating,  or  are  you  hoping  that  you  will  get 
a  chance  to  sneak  off  without  paying  me?  But 
that  game  won't  work.  I'm  too  wise  to  get 
caught  by  any  trick  like  that.  So  just  come 
across  with  the  price  of  your  feed." 

This  caustic  comment  upon  the  length  of  time 
he  was  lingering  over  the  meal,  and  the  open 
charge  that  he  was  trying  to  defraud  the  waitress, 
hurt  Bob,  and  his  embarrassment  was  evident  in 
the  flush  that  mounted  to  his  face,  as  he  stam- 
mered: 

"I'm  sorry  if  I've  taken  too  long  over  my  food. 
I  didn't  know  I  was  expected  to  eat  it  all  at  once. 
But  I  don't  think  you  have  any  right  to  say  that 
I  was  trying  to  cheat  you  out  of  the  pay.  If  I 
hadn't  had  the  money  in  my  pocket  to  pay  for 
what  I  ordered,  I  shouldn't  have  ordered  any- 
thing. How  much  is  it,  please?" 

"Thirty  cents,"  snapped  the  waitress. 

Quickly  Bob  thrust  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and 
drew  forth  a  dollar  bill  and  gave  it  to  her. 

So  deeply  had  Bob  been  stirred  by  the  unjust 
reflection  upon  his  honesty,  that  his  misery  was 
plainly  visible  on  his  face,  and  the  waitress,  re- 
turning, could  not  but  notice  it. 

"I'm  sorry  if  I  made  you  feel  bad,  kid,"  she 
apologized,  "but  you  see,  when  people  buy  things 
in  here,  they  generally  pay  for  them  right  off,  and 


102  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

K?e  Have  so  many  tricks  worked  on  us  that  we 
have  to  be  pretty  sly  not  to  get  nailed  by  some 
of  them.  But  you're  all  right.  You're  only 
just  green." 

Leaving  the  restaurant,  Bob  returned  to  the 
waiting-room,  where  he  picked  out  a  seat  nearest 
the  place  where  the  train  announcer  always  stood 
when  he  called  out  the  trains  that  were  ready 
for  the  passengers.  But  as  he  sat  there,  he  could 
not  get  the  words  of  the  girl  in  the  restaurant 
out  of  his  mind,  and  kept  repeating  to  himself: 
"Only  just  green." 

The  constant  brooding  over  this  remark  sug- 
gested the  thought  to  him:  "If  people  here  in 
the  cities  like  New  York  and  Chicago  think  that 
I  don't  know  anything,  and  am  not  used  to  the 
ways  of  doing  things,  what  will  they  think  of 
me  out  in  Fairfax?  I  said  I  wouldn't  let  them 
take  me  for  a  tenderfoot,  and  I  won't.  I'll  just 
pretend  I  know  all  about  things  and  watch  how 
the  other  people  do." 

This  new  resolve  fascinated  the  boy,  and  he 
fell  into  a  day  dream,  in  which  bronchos,  cowboys, 
and  herds  of  cattle  figured  prominently,  and  so 
engrossed  did  he  become  in  it,  that  it  was  witK 
a  start  he  heard  the  train  announcer  call  out  the 
train  for  Kansas  City  and  the  West,  which  he 
was  to  take. 


ALONE  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY  103 

Following  the  others  who  were  going  on  the 
same  train,  Bob  made  his  way  to  the  cars. 

Mindful  of  his  recent  resolution  and  the  un- 
pleasant experience  with  the  porter  of  the  parlor 
car,  Bob  scrutinized  each  coach  of  the  train  care- 
fully as  he  walked  along  until  he  came  to  one 
that  was  obviously  a  chair  car,  and  this  he  en- 
tered, selecting  a  seat  well  in  the  middle. 

Eager  as  Bob  was  to  reach  his  destination,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  they  would  never  start,  but 
when  at  last  the  wheels  began  to  squeak  as  the 
train  got  in  motion,  he  gave  vent  to  a  sigh  of  de- 
light. 

Of  the  people  about  him,  he  took  only  pass- 
ing notice,  and  busied  himself  with  trying  to  map 
out  a  plan  of  action  after  he  reached  Fairfax. 

When  the  conductor  came  along  collecting  the 
tickets,  Bob  proudly  drew  forth  his  pass  and  pre- 
sented it.  As  though  unable  to  reconcile  the  bit 
of  paper  with  the  poorly-clad  boy,  the  conductor 
scrutinized  the  official  transportation  closely,  from 
time  to  time  glancing  at  Bob. 

Unable  satisfactorily  to  solve  the  incongruity, 
the  official  muttered: 

"The  pass  is  all  right,  but  it  doesn't  seem 
right  for  this  boy  to  have  it." 

This  voicing  of  the  thoughts,  which  were  evi- 
dently passing  through  the  conductor's  mind, 


104  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

scared  Bob,  and  he  asked,  assuming  an  air  of 
confidence  that  he  did  not  feel: 

"What's  the  matter  with  that  pass?** 

"Nothing,  provided  you  are  Bob  Chester.  But 
I  don't  see  why  you  should  be  given  one.** 

"Well,  if  it's  all  right,  and  properly  made  out, 
I  don't  know  that  it's  any  concern  of  yours  why  it 
was  given  to  me.  If  you  have  any  doubt  about 
it,  why  don't  you  find  out  from  the  people  who 
issued  it?" 

"That's  a  good  idea.  It's  just  what  I  was  go- 
ing to  do.  I  will  just  keep  it  until  I  know  it's  all 
O.  K." 

And,  putting  the  piece  of  official  transportation 
in  his  pocket,  the  conductor  moved  along  through 
the  car. 

With  dismay  and  a  feeling  of  foreboding,  Bob 
watched  the  conductor  go  from  his  car  with  the 
precious  pass.  He  dared  not  protest;  indeed, 
the  thought  of  the  proper  way  to  make  an  objec- 
tion did  not  occur  to  him.  In  fact,  he  did  not 
know  that  he  could  do  so,  and  his  own  temerity 
in  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  it  was  made 
out  had  startled  him.  But  bitterly  did  he  rue 
his  suggestion  that  the  conductor  keep  the  all- 
important  paper  until  he  was  satisfied  as  to  its 
genuineness. 

In  a  few  minutes  Bob  noticed  the  brakeman 
come  into  the  car  and  stare  at  him.  But  he  did 


ALONE  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY  105 

not  know  that  the  man  had  done  so  in  obedience 
to  the  order  of  the  conductor,  who  had  told  the 
trainman  to  take  a  look  at  Bob,  and  then  to  take 
care  that  the  boy  did  not  try  to  leave  the  train 
until  the  matter  of  the  pass  had  been  properly 
cleared  up. 

As  the  train  whirled  through  the  darkness  of 
the  night,  Bob  occasionally  caught  a  glimpse  of 
light  in  the  scattered  houses  or  towns  through 
which  it  passed,  but  so  dark  was  it  that  he  could 
see  nothing  of  the  country. 

Dropping  his  chair  back,  the  boy  tried  to  go 
to  sleep,  but  his  anxiety  over  the  safety  of  his 
pass  made  it  impossible,  though  he  dropped  into 
a  doze  several  times  only  to  awake  with  a  start. 

In  the  meantime,  the  conductor  had  sent  a 
telegram  to  the  offices  in  Chicago  where  Bob  had 
obtained  the  transportation,  asking  if  a  pass  had 
been  issued  to  Bob  Chester,  and  requesting  a  de- 
scription of  that  individual. 

Whenever  the  conductor  walked  through  the 
car,  Bob  inquired  anxiously  as  to  when  he  should 
receive  the  important  piece  of  paper  back  again, 
but  the  man  in  charge  of  the  train  only  answered 
gruffly: 

"You'll  get  it  back  soon  enough,  if  it's  all 
right." 

"But  if  it  isn't?"  asked  Bob,  in  a  boyish  eager- 
ness to  know  the  exact  conditions  he  was  facing. 


106  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"You'll  be  put  off  the  train,  anyhow.,  and  per- 
haps you  will  have  to  go  to  jail." 

As  the  conductor  announced  this  alternative,  he 
watched  Bob  closely,  and  the  start  the  latter  gave 
at  the  mention  of  the  possibility  of  arrest,  only 
confirmed  the  man  in  his  suspicion  that  there  was 
something  irregular  about  the  boy's  having  the 
free  transportation.  But  as  the  reader  knows, 
it  was  no  thought  of  the  pass  being  spurious  that 
disturbed  Bob.  The  word  "jail"  had  brought  to 
his  mind  his  unpleasant  experience  in  New  York. 

From  thinking  about  his  arrest  and  the  men 
who  had  been  its  cause,  Bob  went  over  in  his 
mind  all  the  events  that  had  transpired  since 
that  momentous  happening,  yet  he  had  no  regret 
at  the  course  he  had  chosen. 

Not  long  after  daylight,  as  the  train  entered 
what  Bob  could  see  was  a  good-sized  city,  and 
stopped  at  the  station,  the  boy  decided  he  would 
get  out  and  walk  up  and  down  the  platform  in 
order  to  stretch  his  legs. 

Evidently  never  thinking  the  lad  would  be  astir 
so  early,  the  brakeman  had  neglected  to  obey  his 
instructions  and  keep  close  watch  on  Bob,  so  that 
his  leaving  the  car  was  unnoticed. 

Seeing  a  place  where  he  could  get  a  drink  of 
water,  Bob  walked  toward  it. 

Just  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  drinking  from 
the  cup,  he  was  stupefied  to  hear  the  snorting 


ALONE  IN  A  STRANGE  CITY  107 

of  an  engine,  and,  upon  turning  his  head,  to  see 
the  train  on  which  he  had  been  riding  disappear- 
ing from  the  station. 

With  a  cry  of  alarm,  Bob  dashed  after  it; 
shouting : 

"Wait!  Stop  the  train  I  The  conductor's  got 
my  pass!" 

But  the  few  officials  about,  paid  no  heed  to  the 
lad's  frantic  cries,  and  the  train  continued  on  its 
way,  while  Bob  was  left  in  a  strange  place,  bereft 
of  his  pass,  and  without  knowing  what  to  do  in 
order  to  regain  possession  of  the  precious  piece 
of  pape*  which  was  to  carry  him  to  Fairfax. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

BOB    STARTS   AGAIN 

BOB'S  lusty  shouts,  as  he  vainly  tried  to  stop 
the  train,  drew  the  attention  of  the  few  employees 
in  the  station  at  so  early  an  hour,  and  they  gath- 
ered about  him,  taking  mental  stock  of  his  worn 
clothes  and  his  honest  face,  as  they  approached. 

"What's  the  matter?  Nobody  here  to  meet 
you?"  asked  one  of  the  men,  on  whose  hat  were 
the  words,  "Station  Master." 

"This  isn't  a  very  convenient  hour  to  meet  any 
one.  Where  do  your  people  live?  We  can  direct 
you  how  to  get  to  them." 

Not  having  heard  the  words  uttered  by  Bob, 
the  agent's  inference  that  the  boy  was  disap- 
pointed at  finding  no  one  to  meet  him,  was  nat- 
ural. But  Bob  soon  disillusioned  him. 

"The  train's  gone  and  left  me,"  said  he,  with 
ever  so  slight  a  shakiness  in  his  voice,  as  he 
thought  of  the  train  speeding  on  its  way  and  with 
it  his  precious  pass. 

"Well,  there  are  other  trains,"  declared  a  sec- 
ond man.  "You  can  take  the  next  one." 

108 


BOB  STARTS  AGAIN  109 

The  quaver  in  Bob's  voice,  however,  had 
reached  the  ears  of  the  station  master,  and  he 
asked  kindly : 

"How  far  were  you  going?" 

"To  Fairfax,  Oklahoma." 

With  the  evident  purpose  of  reassuring  Bob, 
the  station  master  said: 

"Oh,  well,  it  will  only  make  the  difference  of 
twelve  hours  or  so  in  reaching  Fairfax.  There's 
another  train  goes  through  at  four  o'clock  this 
afternoon." 

"It  isn't  the  delay  I  mind,"  returned  Bob,  "but 
the  conductor  has  my  pass!" 

"You  travelling  on  a  pass?"  exclaimed  another 
incredulously,  as  though  unable  to  reconcile  Bob's 
shabby  apparel  with  the  possession  of  such  a 
privileged  means  of  transportation. 

"My,  that  is  bad,"  mused  the  station  master. 
"But  don't  worry.  I'll  have  word  telegraphed 
to  the  conductor  to  leave  your  pass  with  the  agent 
at  Kansas  City,  and  you  can  get  it  there.  Come 
with  me,  and  we'll  see  about  sending  the  mes- 
sage." 

"But  how  shall  I  get  to  Kansas  City  without 
any  ticket?"  asked  Bob,  as  he  accompanied  his 
new-found  friend  into  the  station.  "I  only  have 
a  few  dollars,  which  I  shall  need  when  I  get  to 
Fairfax.  I  suppose  it  would  cost  a  lot  to  buy  a 
ticket?" 


I  io  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"If  you  had  a  pass,  it  won't  be  necessary  for 
you  to  pay.  I'll  arrange  that  all  right." 

Randolph,  the  city  in  which  Bob  was  marooned, 
being  a  division  headquarters  of  the  railway, 
there  was  a  train  despatcher's  office  in  the  sta- 
tion, and  thither  the  agent  led  Bob. 

Going  over  to  one  of  the  telegraphers,  the  sta- 
tion master  explained  the  situation  briefly. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  wire?  Jenkins  is 
the  conductor,  isn't  he?" 

"Yes.  Say,  'Jenkins,  Aboard  No.  6 :  Leave','* 
and  then  he  turned  to  the  boy,  asked  his  name, 
and  continued:  "  'Bob  Chester's  pass  with  the 
ticket  agent  at  Kansas  City.  Will  send  Bob  on 
the  next  train.  ROBINSON, 

"  'Station  Master,  Randolph.'  " 

Scarcely  had  the  operator  forwarded  the  mes- 
sage than  he  suddenly  leaned  over  his  instrument, 
listened  intently,  and  then  exclaimed: 

"I'll  bet  Jenkins  will  be  glad  to  get  your  wire 
about  the  boy.  Was  there  any  trouble  about  the 
pass?"  and  he  looked  at  Bob. 

"Yes,"  responded  the  youth,  and  told  them 
about  the  conductor's  suspicions.  "But  why  did 
you  ask?" 

"Because  I  caught  a  message  going  to  Jenkins 
from  Chicago." 

"It  said  the  pass  was  all  right,  didn't  it?" 
queried  Bob  anxiously. 


BOB  STARTS  AGAIN  in 

"It  did,"  replied  the  operator,  with  emphasis, 
"and  more,  too.  Said  you  were  a  particular 
friend  of  'Old  Man'  Perkins,  and  advised  Jenkins 
to  treat  you  well,  as  one  man  had  got  into  trou- 
ble through  being  uncivil  to  you." 

"But  I  made  that  all  right;  at  least,  I  wrote  a 
note  asking  Mr.  Perkins  to  take  the  porter  back 
again,"  answered  Bob  innocently. 

The  overheard  message  had  a  salutary  effect 
upon  both  the  operator  and  agent,  and  they  took 
a  new  interest  in  the  boy  who  was  a  protege  of 
the  railroad  president. 

After  asking  Bob  about  the  incident  of  the  par- 
lor car,  they  told  him  to  make  himself  comfort- 
able, and  when  he  felt  hungry  to  let  them  know. 

"I  could  eat  now,"  smiled  Bob,  his  troubles 
vanished. 

"Then  I'll  have  one  of  my  men  go  with  you 
to  a  restaurant  just  up  the  street  a  little  way." 

"You're  very  kind,  but  I  can  go  alone,"  replied 
Bob. 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  laughed  the  station  master. 
"But,  after  that  wire  from  Chicago  to  Jenkins,  I 
don't  want  anything  to  happen  to  you  while  I  am 
responsible. 

"Hey,  Tom,"  he  called  to  one  of  the  trainmen, 
"take  this  boy  up  to  Sweeney's,  and  see  that  he 
has  a  good  feed." 

In  that  mysterious  manner  in  which  news  trav- 


H2  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

els,  word  had  been  passed  of  the  instructions  to 
Jenkins,  and  the  man  hailed  as  Tom  gladly  ac- 
cepted his  task,  saying: 

"Come  on,  Bob.  When  you've  tasted  Sween- 
ey's wheat  cakes,  you'll  always  remember  Ran- 
dolph." 

"I  think  I'll  remember  it,  anyway,"  smiled  Bob, 
as  he  set  out  for  the  restaurant  with  his  guide. 

Bob's  appetite  had  not  been  in  the  least  im- 
paired by  the  unpleasant  experience  through  which 
he  had  passed,  and  he  ate  three  plates  of  griddle 
cakes. 

"My,  but  those  cakes  sure  were  good,"  he  ob- 
served, smacking  his  lips  with  relish. 

His  companion,  with  good-natured  patience,  had 
watched  the  boy  eat,  and,  as  Bob  expressed  his 
approval  of  Sweeney's  food,  he  said: 

"Better  have  another  plate.  You'll  never  get 
any  cakes  quite  as  good  as  Sweeney's  till  you  get 
back  to  Randolph." 

Though  with  evident  reluctance,  Bob  declined, 
and,  after  paying  for  the  meal,  they  returned  to 
the  station. 

By  the  time  of  their  arrival,  more  trainmen 
were  on  duty,  and  to  each  the  story  of  Bob's 
getting  left  had  been  told. 

As  a  result,  when  they  saw  the  boy,  they  smiled 
at  him,  and  proffered  good-natured  comments. 


BOB  STARTS  AGAIN  113 

"Feel  less  hungry,  now?"  asked  the  station 
master,  as  Tom  and  Bob  entered  his  office. 

uYes,  thank  you,"  replied  the  latter.  "Sweeney 
surely  can  cook  griddle  cakes!  I  wish  he  lived 
out  in  Fairfax." 

"Take  him  along,"  laughed  Tom,  "and  start  in 
business.  All  Sweeney  needs  is  a  flame  to  cook 
on,  and  the  fixin's." 

While  they  were  talking,  one  of  the  telegraph 
operators  came  in,  with  a  despatch  for  the  agent. 

"Here's  Jenkins'  answer,"  said  he,  holding  out 
the  sheet  of  yellow  paper. 

Taking  it,  the  station  master  read  aloud: 

"ROBINSON,  Randolph:  Will  leave  pass  as  in- 
structed. Square  me  with  the  boy,  if  you  can. 
Buy  him  all  he  wants  to  eat,  and  I'll  settle. 

"JENKINS." 

At  the  words  proclaiming  the  conductor's  evi- 
dent anxiety  over  how  Bob  felt  toward  him,  they 
all  .laughed. 

"It'll  do  Jenkins  good  to  worry  a  little,"  com- 
mented Tom.  Then,  as  an  idea  occurred  to  him, 
he  struck  his  thigh,  and  exclaimed:  "I  say,  Jen- 
kins is  an  awful  miser.  Let's  put  up  a  joke  on 
him.  We'll  take  a  dozen  of  the  boys,  have  a 
feed  at  Sweeney's,  and  charge  it  to  Jenkins." 


II4  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"That's  the  idea !  Great !  Fine  1"  were  some 
of  the  remarks  that  greeted  the  suggestion. 

But  on  Bob's  face  there  was  a  look  of  doubt,  as 
he  said: 

"I  don't  think  that  would  be  exactly  fair,  would 
it?" 

"Why  not?"  asked  several. 

"Because  Mr.  Jenkins  would  know  I  couldn't 
cat  so  much." 

Tom,  however,  was  loath  to  abandon  his  joke, 
and  argued: 

"But  he  said  for  Robinson  to  square  him  with 
you,  didn't  he?" 

"Why,  yes." 

"Then,  Robinson  can  tell  him  the  feed  for  the 
dozen  of  us  was  the  only  way  he  could  do  it." 

Though  he  did  not  wish  to  be  a  spoil-sport, 
Bob,  however,  did  not  approve  of  the  plan.  Con- 
sequently, it  was  witH  relief  he  beheld  a  large, 
red-faced  man,  in  overalls  and  jumper,  enter  the 
station  master's  office,  exclaiming  as  he  caught 
sight  of  the  boy: 

"Are  you  the  kid  Conductor  Jenkins  left  here?*' 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How'd  you  like  to  go  over  to  Kansas  City  on 
my  freight  train?" 

"First-rate.  I  never  rode  on  a  freight,  and  I'd 
like  to." 


BOB  STARTS  AGAIN  115 

"You'll  never  want  to  again,"  commented  Tom. 
"What'll  become  of  our  feed  if  you  go?" 

"Oh,  we  can  have  it,  just  the  same,"  returned 
another. 

Bob,  however,  was  too  engrossed  with  the  pros- 
pect of  riding  on  a  freight  train,  to  overhear  the 
remark. 

At  first,  the  station  master  had  thought  to  pro- 
test against  letting  his  charge  go,  but,  as  he  no- 
ticed the  boy's  eagerness,  he  said: 

"Hosmer,  shake  hands  with  Bob  Chester. 
Don't  let  anything  happen  to  him.  He's  a  special 
friend  of  'Old  Man'  Perkins.  When  you  get  to 
Kansas  City,  take  him  to  the  ticket  agent,  and  be 
sure  he  gets  the  pass  all  right." 

"Never  fear;  I'll  stay  with  him  till  his  train's 
in,  and  then  introduce  him  to  the  conductor.  Come 
on,  Bob.  Train's  waiting." 

Quickly  saying  good-bye  to  the  station  master 
and  the  others,  and  thanking  them  for  their  kind- 
ness, Bob  followed  the  big  conductor,  and  was 
soon  started  on  his  way  to  Fairfax  again,  aboard 
the  freight  train. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AT   THE   THROTTLE   OF   A    FREIGHT   ENGINE 

TAKING  Bob  to  the  caboose,  the  freight  conduc- 
tor made  him  known  to  the  brakemen  who  were 
lolling  about,  smoking. 

"So  you're  the  kid  Miser  Jenkins  thought  stole 
your  pass?"  exclaimed  one  of  the  trainmen,  after 
a  searching  scrutiny  of  the  boy.  "He  must  be  los- 
ing his  eyesight.  That  face  of  yours  ought  to 
vouch  for  you,  if  nothing  else.  Crooks  don't  have 
such  honest  faces." 

"Oh,  the  miser  was  probably  trying  to  pull  off 
one  of  his  grand-stand  plays,"  commented  another. 
"Passes  are  pretty  rare  birds,  nowadays,  and  I 
suppose  he  thought  he  could  make  a  hit  with  the 
company  by  inquiring  about  this  one." 

"And  instead  of  that,  he  got  hit  himself.  Brown, 
in  the  despatcher's  office,  told  me  the  message 
Jenkins  received  from  Chicago  was  red  hot." 

From  the  remarks,  Bob  could  see  plainly  that 
the  officious  conductor  was  not  popular,  and  he 

116 


AT  THE  THROTTLE  117 

was  wondering  whether  or  not  he  was  expected 
to  make  any  comment,  when  Hosmer  said,  his 
face  suffused  with  a  look  of  glee : 

"Well,  the  boys  are  going  to  put  one  over  on 
the  'miser'." 

And,  pausing  aggravatingly,  the  freight  con- 
ductor filled  his  pipe  and  lighted  it. 

His  action  produced  the  desired  effect  of  tan- 
talizing the  brakemen,  and  they  exclaimed 
eagerly : 

"Out  with  it,  Hos'l  Tell  us!  Let  us  in  on 
it!" 

Waiting  a  moment,  to  give  his  words  greater 
emphasis,  the  conductor  removed  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth,  and  said: 

"All  the  boys  are  going  up  to  Sweeney's,  order 
the  swellest  meal  he  can  put  up,  and  send  the  bill 
to  Jenkins  I" 

"Whoopee!  Great!  I  wish  we  were  in  on 
it!"  exclaimed  the  brakemen  in  unison. 

"Is  that  quite  fair?"  asked  Bob,  having  hoped 
that  his  departure  would  put  an  end  to  Tom's 
plan. 

"Fair?  Sure,  it's  fair!"  laughed  Hosraer. 
"Anyhow,  I  don't  see  why  you  should  care.  He 
treated  you  mighty  mean,  taking  your  pass  away 
from  you." 

As  the  other  trainmen  agreed  with  the  opinion 
of  their  conductor,  Bob  made  no  further  objeo 


jig  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

tion,  contenting  himself  with  the  thought  that  he 
could  hardly  be  held  responsible. 

During  the  conversation,  the  long  freight  train 
had  got  under  way,  and  while  the  boy  found 
many  novel  things  to  hold  his  attention,  the 
brakemen  amused  themselves  speculating  on  the 
effect  the  joke  would  have  upon  Jenkins. 

As  the  engine  whistled  for  a  station,  Hosmer 
said  to  Bob: 

"How'd  you  like  to  ride  on  the  engine  till  the 
next  stop?" 

"My,  but  it  would  be  fun!"  replied  Bob,  his 
eyes  sparkling  with  delight. 

"Then  come  on!  I'll  take  you  up  and  fix  it 
with  Barney,  the  engineer." 

As  the  train  stopped,  with  a  loud  creaking  of 
brakes  and  groaning  of  wheels,  Bob  jumped  from 
the  caboose  and  accompanied  the  burly  conductor 
to  the  head  of  the  train. 

"Hey,  Barney!"  he  hailed  the  engineer. 

The  man  thus  addressed  poked  a  coal-begrimed 
face  from  the  window  of  his  cab,  asking: 

"What  is  it — wait  orders?" 

"Not  this  time.  I've  got  a  boy  here — Bob  Ches- 
ter— who  wants  to  ride  with  you  to  the  next  sta- 
tion." 

For  a  moment  the  engineer  scowled,  and  Bob 
feared  he  would  refuse.  But  quickly  the  grimy 
face  broke  into  a  smile,  as  Barney  asked: 


AT  THE  THROTTLE  119 

"Is  that  the  kid  with  a  pass  Jenkins  left?" 
"Yes." 

"Sure  he  can  ride  with  me.     Help  him  up." 

Bob,  however,  needed  no  assistance,  and  no 
sooner  had  the  permission  been  granted  than  he 
was  climbing  into  the  engine  cab. 

Before  he  had  succeeded,  Hosmer  whispered: 

"Barney's  all  right — and  he  doesn't  like  Jen- 
kins. Tell  him  about  the  joke  the  boys  are  go- 
ing to  play."  And  then  he  continued  aloud:  "I'll 
either  come  for  you,  myself,  or  send  some  one 
when  w«  reach  Hastings.  Orders  give  us  the 
right  of  way  to  Hastings,  Barney." 

"O.  K.,"  grunted  the  engineer,  as  he  turned 
to  scrutinize  Bob,  at  the  same  time  standing  so 
that  he  could  glance  up  the  track  toward  the 
station  to  catch  the  signal  to  start. 

Acting  on  the  conductor's  advice,  Bob  narrated 
the  plan  Tom  had  devised  for  having  fun  at 
Jenkins'  expense,  and  was  rewarded  by  seeing 
the  engineer's  face  break  into  a  broad  grin,  and 
then  to  hear  him  roar  with  laughter. 

"That'll  make  'Old  Miser's'  hair  turn  gray," 
he  gasped  between  laughs.  "He'll  never  get  over 
it,  never! 

"Oh,  Ned,"  he  called  to  his  fireman,  who  had 
been  out  oiling  some  part  of  the  engine,  "the 
boys  are  going  to  put  one  over  on  'Miser'  Jen* 
kins." 


120  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

But  before  the  engineer  had  an  opportunity  to 
tell  of  the  contemplated  joke,  he  caught  the  signal 
from  the  conductor  to  start. 

"Get  up  on  that  seat  on  the  left-hand  side,  and 
hang  on,"  warned  Barney,  and,  as  Bob  obeyed, 
he  pulled  open  the  throttle. 

As  the  iron  monster  began  to  move,  puffing  and 
smoking  at  the  task  of  starting  the  long  train,  it 
seemed  to  the  boy  that  the  noise  would  deafen 
him.  But  he  soon  forgot  it  in  the  absorption  of 
watching  the  fireman  open  the  doors  of  the  fire- 
box, throw  in  shovels-full  of  coals,  and  then  in- 
spect the  water  and  steam  gauges. 

With  the  gradual  increasing  of  the  speed,  the 
din  subsided.  Yet  a  new  discomfort  took  its 
place.  So  violently  did  the  engine  sway,  that  Bob 
was  obliged  to  hang  on  to  the  window  on  his  side 
of  the  cab  to  keep  from  bouncing  to  the  floor. 

Watching  out  the  corner  of  his  eye,  as  he 
scanned  the  track  ahead,  the  engineer  smiled  at 
the  boy's  trouble  in  staying  on  the  seat. 

Bob,  however,  soon  adapted  himself  to  the  en- 
gine's motion,  and  was  finally  able  to  sit  without 
clutching  the  window-frame. 

Noting  this,  Barney  got  down,  crossed  the  cab, 
and  putting  his  mouth  close  to  the  boy's  ear, 
asked : 

"Like  to  run  the  engine  awhile?" 


AT  THE  THROTTLE  121 

"Would  I?  I  should  say  so!"  returned  Bob 
in  delight. 

Though  his  reply  was  inaudible,  the  expression 
on  his  face  was  eloquent. 

"Then,  take  hold  of  my  arm,  so  you  won't  get 
thrown  out.  That's  the  way.  Steady,  now. 
Climb  on  to  the  seat.  Good.  Now,  put  your  left 
hand  on  that  lever.  That's  what  they  call  the 
throttle.  When  you  pull  it  toward  you,  it  in- 
creases the  speed ;  to  slow  down,  you  push  it  away 
from  you." 

Proud,  indeed,  did  Bob  feel  as  his  hand  clasped 
the  smooth  handle  of  the  lever.  Never  had  he 
expected  to  run  a  real,  snorting  locomotive,  drag- 
ging a  long  line  of  cars,  and  the  realization  that 
he  was  actually  controlling  the  speed,  set  him 
a-tingle  with  delight. 

Crowding  in  behind  Bob,  the  engineer  kept 
watch  of  the  track,  but  not  so  closely  that  he 
could  not  observe  and  enjoy  the  boy's  pleasure. 

After  several  minutes,  Bob  turned  and  shouted : 

"Can  I  pull  on  the  throttle  a  little?" 

"Sure.  Open  her  to  the  next  notch.  We've 
got  plenty  of  steam." 

But  Bob  found  it  was  not  so  easy  to  get  the 
notch  as  it  seemed.  He  kept  gamely  at  it,  how- 
ever, and  at  last  succeeded. 

Till  they  reached  the  yard  limit  of  Hastings, 
the  engineer  allowed  him  to  hold  the  throttle,  and 


122  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

when  he  at  last  took  it  and  began  to  ease  down 
the  speed,  Bob  sighed  wistfully. 

As  the  big  machine  finally  came  to  a  stop  with 
a  grunt,  Barney  exclaimed: 

"You  ought  to  be  an  engineer,  boy.  You've 
got  the  nerve  to  drive  hard.  We  did  ten  miles 
''ai  twenty  minutes — which  is  going  some  with  this 
load." 

Just  then,  however,  the  conductor  came  up^ 

"Like  it,  Bob?"  he  asked. 

"Indeed,  I  did!  Mr.  Barney  let  me  drive,  and 
I  made  ten  miles  in  twenty  minutes." 

"Good  boy!  We'll  make  a  railroad  man  out 
of  you  yet.  Think  you  could  follow  me  back  to 
the  caboose  over  the  cars?" 

"I  can  try,"  returned  Bob. 

But  before  the  attempt  could  be  made,  the  con- 
ductor was  called  to  the  station  office  to  receive 
orders. 

Swelled  with  pride  at  his  success  in  driving  the 
engine,  Bob  determined  to  surprise  the  conductor 
by  going  back  to  the  caboose  alone. 

And  with  a  hearty  good-bye  to  the  engineer,  he 
clambered  over  the  coal-stacked  tender  and  up  on 
to  the  top  of  a  car. 

The  orders  were  to  take  a  siding  to  allow  a 
passenger  train  to  pass,  and,  as  the  time  was 
short,  the  conductor  was  too  busy  sending  his 
brakemen  to  turn  the  switches  and  communicating 


ME  CLUTCHED  FRANTICALLY  AT  ONE  OF  THE  HAND  BARS 


AT  THE  THROTTLE  123 

the  instructions  to  the  engineer,  to  think  of  Bob. 

The  boy,  however,  was  making  his  way  back 
slowly,  but  without  mishap,  until  the  sudden  start 
of  the  train.  He  had  just  climbed  down  from  a 
high  car,  and  was  swinging  from  it  to  an  empty 
coal  car,  when  the  jerk  of  starting  ran  through 
the  line  of  cars. 

So  unexpected  was  this  action,  that  Bob's  feet 
slipped  off  the  bumpers. 

Crying  out  in  alarm,  he  clutched  frantically  at 
one  of  the  hand-bars  on  the  end  of  the  coal  car, 
caught  it,  and  managed  to  draw  himself  up  till  he 
found  foothold  on  the  extension  of  the  floor  where 
he  stood,  hanging  on  for  dear  life,  until  the  train 
stopped  with  another  jerk. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BOB    EARNS    HIS    PASSAGE 

ALL  of  a  tremble  at  his  narrow  escape  from 
falling  under  the  car,  Bob  was  trying  to  recover 
his  self-control  before  getting  down  from  his  pre- 
carious position,  when  he  was  startled  to  hear  a 
voice  exclaim: 

"I'll  get  even  with  that  'con'  for  putting  me 
off  the  blind  baggage,  see  if  I  don't  1" 

The  tone  in  which  the  words  were  uttered  was 
so  venomous,  that  Bob  realized  the  speaker  meant 
mischief,  though  he  was  ignorant  of  the  fact  that 
in  the  slang  of  tramps  who  beat  their  way  on  rail- 
roads, "con"  betokened  conductor,  and  "blind  bag- 
gage" the  platform  of  the  coach  in  a  passenger 
train  nearest  the  engine. 

Looking  about  to  find  out  where  the  angry 
man  was,  Bob  could  see  no  one. 

But  the  next  instant  another  voice  asking,  "How 
you  goin'  to  do  it?"  decided  him  that  the  speakers 
must  be  crouching  against  the  end  of  the  empty 
coal  car  to  which  he  was  holding. 

124 


BOB  EARNS  HIS  PASSAGE  125 

How  he  had  failed  to  discover  them  from  the 
top  of  the  other  car,  he  could  not  understand, 
but  he  soon  ceased  to  wonder,  in  his  eagerness  to 
catch  every  word  uttered  by  the  unseen  tramps. 

"That's  easy,"  replied  the  voice  the  boy  recog- 
nized as  having  made  the  threat  to  "get  even." 

"Cut  out  that  talk,  and  get  down  to  business," 
growled  a  third  voice. 

"All  right,  'Bo.  We  can  put  all  sorts  of  crimps 
into  this  road  by  'holding  up'  the  night  express  I 
The  officials  of  this  road,  whose  men  are  too 
stingy  to  let  a  fellow  ride  on  the  blind  baggage,  are 
boasting  they  haven't  had  a  'hold-up'  for  years." 

The  various  exclamations  with  which  this 
wicked  plan  was  greeted,  told  Bob  not  only  that 
it  met  the  approval  of  the  tramps,  but  that  there 
were  more  than  two  of  them. 

The  full  danger  of  a  "hold-up"  the  boy  did 
not  realize.  He  remembered,  however,  having 
read  of  such  occurrences  out  West  where  passen- 
gers were  terrorized  and  robbed  of  money  and 
jewelry. 

But  his  speculation  was  again  interrupted  by 
the  renewal  of  the  conversation. 

"That  will  sure  set  us  even,  but  when  can  we 
do  it?"  inquired  a  voice  eagerly. 

"And  get  away  safely?"  added  another. 

"There's  only  one  place,"  responded  the  voice 
of  the  man  who  had  suggested  the  plot. 


126  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Where?"  chorused  the  others. 

"On  this  end  of  the  long  bridge  across  the 
river." 

"Right  you  are,  'Bo.  We  can  make  our  'get- 
away' down  the  bank  and  find  some  of  the  'shanty 
men'  to  take  us  across." 

"And  into  the  arms  of  the  police,"  sneered  the 
ringleader.  "We'll  use  the  bank  to  escape,  but 
we  won't  ask  any  favors  of  a  'shanty  man'." 

"Will  there  be  enough  money  aboard  to  make 
it  worth  while?"  inquired  one  of  the  schemers, 
with  an  evidently  practical  turn  of  mind. 

"Sure;  Number  4  always  carries  a  bunch  of 
gold  for  Western  towns." 

"But  how'll  we  board  her?"  asked  still  an- 
other. 

"Get  a  lantern  and  wave  it." 

"Will  they  stop?" 

"Say,  why  do  you  suppose  I  chose  the  approach 
to  the  bridge?"  snapped  the  man  who  had  pro- 
posed the  scheme. 

And  then,  without  giving  his  companions  a 
chance  to  speak,  he  answered  his  question  him- 
self: 

"Because  the  engineer'll  think  there  is  some- 
thing wrong  on  the  bridge  and  stop.  It'll  be  dead 
easy." 

Bob's  eyes  were  almost  popping  out  of  his 
head,  as,  afraid  to  peep  over  the  top  of  the  car, 


BOB  EARNS  HIS  PASSAGE  127 

he  stared  at  the  boards  as  though  striving  to  see 
through  them. 

Straining  his  ears  to  catch  every  word,  he 
heard  another  of  the  plotters  begin  to  speak, 
when  a  train  thundered  past,  effectually  cutting 
off  all  conversation  with  its  roar. 

Though  Bob  did  not  know  it,  so  absorbed  was 
he  in  listening,  less  than  five  minutes  had  passed 
since  he  had  started  back  for  the  caboose. 

With  the  necessity  of  making  a  quick  shift  to 
the  siding,  the  conductor  of  the  freight  train  had 
momentarily  forgotten  the  presence  of  his  youth- 
ful charge,  and  when  at  last  he  did  remember,  it 
was  with  the  supposition  that  he  had  remained 
in  the  cab  with  the  engineer. 

Accordingly,  upon  receipt  of  orders  to  proceed, 
Hosmer  decided  to  let  Bob  ride  longer  in  the  cab, 
and  shouted  to  his  men  to  get  aboard,  waving  his 
arm  in  the  "go  ahead"  signal  to  the  engineer. 

But  Bob  had  heard  the  shouts,  and  divining 
their  meaning,  jumped  to  the  track,  having  no 
relish  for  riding  farther  in  his  dangerous  position 
between  the  cars. 

Fortunately,  both  the  engineer  and  conductor 
saw  the  boy,  as  he  leaped  to  the  ground,  and  the 
signal  to  start  was  not  obeyed. 

Recovering  his  balance,  Bob  ran  toward  Hos- 
mer. 


128  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

As  he  drew  near  enough  for  the  conductor  to 
see  his  white,  excited  face,  he  exclaimed: 

"Where  have  you  heen?  I  thought  you  were  in 
the  cab  with  Barney." 

"I — I  tried  to  go  back  over  the  cars,"  stam- 
mered Bob. 

"Barney  shouldn't  have  let  you.  It's  too  dan- 
gerous for  a  greenhorn." 

Wincing  at  the  words,  which  slipped  oitt  un- 
consciously as  the  conductor  thought  of  Trhat 
might  have  happened  to  the  boy,  Bob  hastened  to 
defend  the  engineer  by  saying: 

"Mr.  Barney  didn't  know  I  was  going.  I 
wanted  to  surprise  you  by  showing  you  I  could 
go  back  without  your  help.  And — and  then  the 
train  started,  and  I  had  to  hang  on  to  a  coal  car." 

"Well,  so  long  as  you  didn't  get  hurt,  it's  all 
right.  But  don't  try  it  again.  Now,  run  back 
and  climb  into  the  caboose.  Let's  see  how  quick 
you  can  do  it." 

The  last  was  a  diplomatic  means  to  make  the 
boy  hurry,  for  the  conductor  was  anxious  to  start 
the  train,  yet  would  not  until  he  saw  his  charge 
safe  in  the  caboose. 

And  his  ruse  was  successful,  for  Bob,  eager 
to  show  his  speed,  raced  down  the  track  and 
quickly  swung  aboard. 

Smiling,   Hosmer  again   signalled  to  Barney, 


BOB  EARNS  HIS  PASSAGE  129 

the  train  started,  and  as  the  last  car  reached  him, 
the  conductor  climbed  on. 

"Have  any  trouble  when  we  started?"  one  of 
the  brakemen  was  asking  Bob  as  Hosmer  entered 
the  car. 

"Pretty  near.  I  was  just  crossing  from  a  high 
to  a  low  car,  when  the  jerk  came.  But  I  managed 
to  hang  on." 

"Good  boy,"  chorused  the  train  crew,  all  of 
whom  realized  too  well  the  danger  to  which  the 
boy  had  been  subjected. 

"But  when  we  stopped  on  the  siding,  why  didn't 
you  get  down?"  asked  the  conductor. 

"Because  I  was  listening,"  announced  Bob  with 
a  manner  of  mystery  that  would  have  been  droll 
were  his  face  not  so  serious. 

"Listening?"  exclaimed  the  others,  instantly 
alert. 

"Yes.  I  was  just  going  to  get  down,  when  I 
heard  some  one  speak,  and  then  I  waited." 

"Hoboes,"  growled  a  brakeman,  jumping  up 
and  seizing  a  short  club.  "What  car  were  they 
on,  kid?" 

"The  first  coal  car  from  the  engine.  But  you 
mustn't  go  up  there.  They  are  bad  men." 

This  warning  was  greeted  with  laughter  by 
the  brakemen,  the  others  of  whom  had  also 
picked  up  clubs. 


130  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

The  conductor,  however,  having  a  son  of  his 
own,  realized  from  Bob's  manner  that  the  lad  had 
something  he  wanted  to  tell  but  did  not  know 
how  to  begin,  and  accordingly  asked  him: 

"What  did  you  hear,  son?" 

"I  heard  them  plan  to  hold  up  Number  4  to  get 
even!" 

"What?"  demanded  all  the  trainmen,  their 
faces  instantly  growing  serious. 

"Yes;  the  man  said  he  was  going  to  get  even 
for  being  put  off  the  'blind  baggage'." 

For  a  moment  the  members  of  the  train  crew 
looked  at  one  another  in  amazement,  then  fell  to 
plying  Bob  with  questions,  making  him  repeat  the 
conversation  over  and  over. 

"Well,  you've  earned  your  passage  to  Fairfaxr 
all  right,  Bob!"  ejaculated  the  conductor.  "It 
would  break  our  record  for  being  free  from  hold- 
ups, to  say  nothing  of  the  loss  to  passengers.  The 
company  ought  to  do  something  handsome  by  you, 
my  boy." 

"Then  you  can  prevent  it?"  queried  Bob  anx- 
iously. 

"Sure  thing.  We'll  capture  them  at  the  next 
station.  Better  get  ready,  boys,"  added  Hosmer 
significantly  to  his  brakemen.  "They  may  prove 
hard  to  handle." 

Turning  their  backs,  so  Bob  could  not  see  ex- 
actly what  they  were  doing,  the  brakemen  opened 


BOB  EARNS  HIS  PASSAGE  131 

a  cupboard  and  took  out  some  things  which  they 
slipped  into  the  pockets  of  their  jumpers. 

But  their  preparations  to  capture  the  would-be 
train  robbers  went  for  naught. 

When,  led  by  Bob  to  the  coal  car,  the  brakemen 
surrounded  and,  at  a  word  from  the  conductor, 
mounted  it,  they  found  the  car  empty. 

"They  have  given  us  the  slip!"  growled  a 
brakeman. 

"Examine  every  car  and  truck  on  the  train," 
commanded  Hosmer.  "I'll  go  to  the  station  and 
send  in  the  alarm.  Come,  Bob." 

And  together  the  conductor  and  the  boy  hast- 
ened to  the  station,  where  the  full  story  was 
quickly  flashed  to  headquarters  at  Omaha. 

When  the  officials  first  received  it,  they  were 
incredulous,  asking  if  it  could  not  have  been  a 
fancy  of  Bob's  brain.  But  Hosmer  quickly 
vouched  for  the  boy's  honesty,  and  word  came 
back  to  have  Bob  put  off  to  meet  the  road's  offi- 
cers at  one  of  the  stations. 

During  the  run  to  that  city,  the  brakemen  spec- 
ulated upon  the  chances  of  capturing  the  mis- 
creants, lamenting  the  fact  that  the  glory  had 
been  denied  them. 

Arrived  at  the  city,  Bob  was  taken  to  a  room 
and  closely  questioned  by  the  officers,  who  were 
soon  convinced  of  the  truth  of  his  story. 


I32  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Could  you  identify  them  if  caught?"  he  was 
asked. 

"If  I  could  hear  them  speak,  I  could  recognize 
the  voice  of  the  man  who  proposed  the  plan.  I 
did  not  get  a  look  at  them,"  replied  Bob. 

Satisfied  with  this  answer,  the  officers  sent  in- 
structions to  have  the  tracks  patrolled  from  Hast- 
ings to  the  long  bridge,  to  search  all  trains,  and 
to  arrest  any  tramps  found. 

This  done,  arrangements  were  made  to  have 
other  detectives  at  the  bridge  in  case  the  men 
eluded  capture. 

The  waiting  was  tedious.  But  at  last,  about 
three  in  the  afternoon,  word  was  received  that 
four  tramps,  heavily  armed,  had  been  captured 
about  ten  miles  from  the  Mississippi  river. 

Putting  Bob  into  the  cab  of  an  engine,  six  offi- 
cers climbed  aboard,  and  a  record  run  was  made 
to  the  scene  of  the  arrest. 

"You  sit  where  you  can  watch  and  hear  them 
talk,"  whispered  a  detective  in  Bob's  ear. 

At  first  the  prisoners  were  silent,  but  under 
the  taunts  of  the  officers,  their  reserve  weakened, 
and  they  began  to  rail  at  the  men  who  had  cap- 
tured them. 

Eagerly,  Bob  listened,  then  cried,  pointing  to 
the  smallest  of  the  four: 

"That's  the  man  who  said  he'd  get  even.  I 
recognize  his  voice!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FAIRFAX  AT   LAST 

ELATED  by  the  capture  and  identification  of  the 
would-be  train-robbers,  the  officers  made  much  of 
Bob,  praising  him  for  remaining  to  listen  until 
he  had  heard  the  dastardly  plot,  and  commenting 
on  the  good  fortune  which  had  placed  him  just 
where  the  tramps  were. 

Modestly  Bob  bore  the  words  of  commenda- 
tion, for  his  mind  was  on  other  matters,  as  the 
question  he  asked  evidenced: 

"How  long  before  the  train  arrives  that  will 
take  me  to  Fairfax?" 

"I'm  afraid  it  will  be  several  days  before  you 
can  go,  Bob,"  answered  one  of  the  officers. 

"Why?"  demanded  the  boy,  disappointment 
evident  in  his  voice  and  on  his  face. 

"Because  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  appear 
in  court  in  order  to  convict  the  prisoners." 

"But  I  don't  see  why  you  need  me,"  protested 
Bob.  "I  told  what  I  had  heard  and  then  pointed 
out  the  man  who  said  he  wanted  to  get  even." 

133 


I34  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"That's  just  it,  son.  You  are  the  only  one 
who  overheard  the  conversation  and  can  identify 
the  ringleader." 

"Don't  look  so  unhappy,"  chimed  in  another 
officer.  "Kansas  City  is  a  pretty  good  town,  and 
we'll  give  you  the  time  of  your  life.  Theatres 
and  picture-shows,  you  know.  The  road  will 
probably  do  something  handsome  for  you.  Any- 
how, you'll  have  good  living  until  it  is  necessary 
to  come  back  here  to  testify." 

But  even  the  prospect  of  going  to  a  theatre — a 
treat  Bob  had  never  enjoyed  while  with  his  guar- 
dian— failed  to  appease  him,  and  his  usually 
cheerful  expression  gave  way  to  one  of  resigned 
gloom. 

Noting  this,  and  desirous  of  restoring  the 
boy's  good  spirits,  an  officer  suggested: 

"Let's  go  over  to  Kansas  City.  How'd  you 
like  that,  Bob?" 

"First  rate.  Then  I  can  get  my  pass  again." 
And  at  the  prospect  of  regaining  possession  of 
the  precious  piece  of  paper,  he  grew  more 
cheerful. 

While  the  detectives  were  making  ready  to 
start,  two  of  their  fellows,  who  had  accompanied 
the  prisoners  to  the  jail,  rushed  in,  exclaiming 
almost  at  the  same  time: 

"We've  got  the  case  clinched  1  One  of  the 
four  has  confessed!" 


FAIRFAX  AT  LAST  135 

Just  what  this  meant,  Bob  did  not  know,  but 
the  news  seemed  to  please  the  officers  so  greatly 
that  their  good  spirits  infected  him. 

"How'd  you  work  it?  Where's  the  confes- 
sion? Let's  read  it!"  exclaimed  the  detectives 
who  had  remained  at  the  station. 

"One  at  a  time,"  laughed  the  chief  of  the 
force.  "The  confession  is  here,"  and  he  tapped 
his  coat  pocket.  "It  bears  out  exactly  what  our 
friend  Bob  told  us." 

"But  how  did  you  get  it?"  persisted  the  others. 

"Promised  the  fellow  who  was  most  scared 
by  his  arrest  a  light  sentence  if  he'd  turn  witness 
against  his  pals.  And  say,  he  jumped  at  the 
chance." 

"Well,  you  are  in  luck,  Bob !"  declared  the 
officer  who  had  striven  to  cheer  him  up. 

"Why?"  inquired  the  boy. 

"Because  now  you  won't  be  obliged  to  wait  for 
the  trial.  This  confession  and  the  evidence  of 
the  man  will  do  the  trick  for  us." 

"Whoopee!"  cried  Bob,  dancing  about  in  de- 
light. "Then  I  can  start  for  Fairfax  to-night?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  a  through  train  comes." 

This  information  restored  Bob's  good  spirits, 
and  eagerly  he  boarded  the  special  car  which  was 
waiting  to  take  the  detectives  back  to  Kansas 
City. 

As  the  officers  discussed  the  incidents  of  the 


136  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

capture,  one  of  them  turned  to  the  boy  and  said: 

"Say,  you  surely  are  a  regular  bunch  of  luck, 
kid  1  I'd  like  to  take  you  out  to  the  gold  regions. 
I  bet  you'd  tumble  into  some  abandoned  mine  that 
would  be  worth  millions!" 

Every  one  laughed  at  this  comment  upon  Bob's 
good  fortune,  and  the  chief  added: 

"I  hope  it  sticks  by  him.  He'll  need  all  the 
luck  he  has  if  any  of  those  Oklahoma  cowboys 
start  in  to  have  fun  with  him." 

"I  guess  I  will,"  smiled  Bob.  "Anyhow,  a  few 
knocks  won't  hurt  me.  Mr.  Perkins  told  me  all 
I  must  look  out  for  was  to  keep  away  from  the 
saloon  and  gambling  dens  and  not  to  make  friends 
too  quickly." 

"Well,  if  you  follow  his  advice,  you'll  get  along 
all  right." 

Upon  the  arrival  of  the  special  car  at  Kansas 
City,  the  officers  were  met  by  a  messenger  with 
instructions  to  have  Bob  taken  to  the  offices  of 
the  railroad  company,  as  the  vice-president  wished 
to  talk  with  him. 

"There's  more  of  your  luck,"  commented  the 
chief:  "Mr.  Nichols  will  probably  give  you  a 
reward." 

Bob,  however,  was  more  concerned  about  re- 
gaining possession  of  his  pass  and  ascertaining 
when  his  train  would  leave  than  in  speculation  as 


FAIRFAX  AT  LAST  137 

to  whether  or  not  he  would  be  rewarded,  and  he 
made  no  bones  about  saying  so. 

"Never  mind  the  pass,  now,"  returned  the  mes- 
senger, who  was  to  escort  him  to  the  vice-presi- 
dent's office.  "We'll  get  that  in  plenty  of  time 
so  you  won't  miss  your  train." 

Thus  reassured,  Bob  turned  to  the  detectives, 
saying : 

"Good-bye,  if  I  don't  see  you  again." 

"Oh,  you'll  see  me,"  replied  the  chief.  "I  shall 
have  you  make  a  deposition  to  support  the  con- 
fession." 

And  amid  wishes  for  the  best  of  success,  Bob 
and  the  messenger  set  out  for  the  company's 
offices. 

Direct  to  the  vice-president's  rooms  Bob  was 
taken. 

As  the  messenger  entered  with  him,  a  tall, 
gray-haired  man  arose  from  a  desk  and  came 
forward  with  outstretched  hand,  announcing: 

"I  am  Mr.  Nichols,  and  I'm  glad  to  know  you, 
Bob." 

For  a  moment  the  official  gazed  earnestly  at  the 
honest  face  before  him,  then  continued : 

"There's  no  use  telling  you  that  I  and  every 
man  who  works  for  our  railroad  is  grateful  to 
you  for  enabling  us  to  catch  the  would-be  train- 
robbers.  You  know  that.  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
how  we  can  reward  you." 


138  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  any  reward,  Mr.  Nich- 
ols," answered  Bob.  "Mr.  Perkins  has  been  so 
kind  to  me  that  when  I  heard  those  bad  men  plan- 
ning to  stop  the  train,  I  only  thought  of  repaying 
his  kindness  by  preventing  them  if  I  could." 

At  these  manly  words,  which  showed  that  Bob 
was  possessed  with  gratitude,  in  addition  to  his 
other  good  qualities,  the  vice-president  again 
shook  his  hand  cordially,  exclaiming: 

"You've  got  the  right  stuff  in  you,  Bob.  I'll  let 
Perkins  hear  what  you  said.  And  now,  sit  down, 
and  tell  me  all  about  your  trip,  beginning  at  New 
York." 

Amazed  that  so  important  a  man  should  evince 
interest  enough  in  him  to  devote  the  time  neces- 
sary to  relate  his  story,  Bob  sank  into  the  com- 
fortable chair  indicated  by  Mr.  Nichols  and  began. 

At  first  he  was  embarrassed,  but  with  the  kindly 
words  now  and  then  uttered  by  the  vice-president, 
he  regained  his  composure. 

When  the  recital  was  ended,  Mr.  Nichols 
thrummed  upon  his  desk  for  several  minutes,  and 
then  asked: 

"What  would  you  like  most  in  the  world,  Bob  ?" 

Scarcely  hesitating  an  instant,  the  boy  replied: 

"To  prove  that  Len  Dardus  did  not  tell  the 
truth  when  he  said  my  father  was  crazy  because 
father  wrote  me  he  had  entrusted  five  thousand 
dollars  to  him  for  my  education." 


FAIRFAX  AT  LAST  139 

The  expression  that  spread  over  Mr.  Nichols* 
face  as  he  heard  this  wish  clearly  showed  surprise, 
for  he  had  expected  that,  boy-like,  Bob  would 
have  requested  money,  a  rifle,  or  the  like,  and 
again  he  thrummed  the  table  before  saying: 

"We  will  prove  it,  if  we  can,  my  boy.  What 
was  your  father's  name?" 

"Horace  Chester." 

"Where  was  your  letter  written  from — I  mean 
the  one  telling  you  of  the  money?" 

"Red  Top,  Oklahoma." 

Swinging  in  his  chair,  the  vice-president  drew 
out  a  slide  from  his  desk  on  which  was  a  map  and 
scanned  it  eagerly. 

All  at  once,  with  an  ejaculation  of  surprise,  he 
murmured : 

"This  is  remarkable — remarkable!" 

Unable  to  restrain  his  curiosity,  Bob  rose  from 
his  chair  and  approached  till  he  could  see  the 
map.  But  this  afforded  him  no  reason  for  his 
friend's  observation,  and  he  asked: 

"What  is  remarkable,  sir?" 

"Why,  that  you  should  have  chosen  to  go  to 
Fairfax.  Red  Top  is  the  next  town,  thirty  miles 
west!" 

"O — oh !  Then  I  may  find  out  something  about 
father!"  exclaimed  Bob  excitedly. 

"Exactly.  But  you  must  be  careful.  If  he 
really  had  the  money,  he  may  have  possessed 


/4o  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

other  property  which  is  being  withheld  from  you. 
In  that  case,  should  the  interested  persons  learn 
that  Horace  Chester's  son  was  in  Fairfax  some- 
thing might  happen  to  you." 

The  last  words  were  uttered  so  significantly 
that  Bob  could  not  fail  to  understand  Mr.  Nich- 
ols' meaning,  and  when  the  latter  continued,  "I 
want  you  to  promise  me  you  will  call  yourself 
Bob  Nichols  fill  I  have  learned  the  truth  of  this 
matter,"  the  boy  solemnly  consented. 

"Good!  Not  only  is  it  for  your  own  safety, 
but  it  will  enable  you  to  investigate  quietiy  with- 
out arousing  suspicion. 

"This  will  be  our  secret,  Bob.  You  must  not 
tell  a  soul,  not  even  Mr.  Perkins." 

"I  won't,  sir." 

Realizing  from  Bob's  expression  that  he  had 
aroused  sad  thoughts  and  memories,  the  vice-presi- 
dent stood  up  and  said: 

"Now  that  we  have  made  this  agreement,  we 
will  dismiss  it  from  our  minds  for  the  present.  I 
want  you  to  come  to  dinner  and  the  theatre  with 
me." 

"But  my  pass  and  the  train?"  exclaimed  Bob. 

"Your  train,  or  rather  the  limited,  on  which  I 
shall  send  you,  does  not  leave  until  eleven.  I'll 
send  for  your  pass  now."  And,  pressing  a  but- 
ton, he  ordered  the  cleric  who  responded  to  fetch 
Bob's  pass. 


FAIRFAX  AT  LAST  141 

This  done,  Mr.  Nichols  was  signing  some  pa- 
pers when  word  was  brought  that  the  chief  of 
detectives  wished  to  take  Bob's  deposition. 

"Have  them  come  in  here,"  replied  the  official, 
and  in  due  course  the  lawyer,  notary  and  detective 
arrived. 

Briefly  Bob  told  his  story,  signed  it,  and  «ol- 
emnly  swore  to  its  truth. 

"And  now  we'll  forget  all  trouble  and  have  a 
good  time,"  announced  Mr.  Nichols.  "Give  this 
note  to  the  cashier,  chief.  Take  Bob's  pass  from 
the  messenger  and  meet  us  at  the  limited  at  eleven. 
Bob  and  I  are  going  to  the  theatre." 

To  the  boy,  it  seemed  as  though  he  were  in 
fairy-land.  First  Mr.  Nichols  took  him  to  a  store, 
bought  him  a  new  suit  and  a  complete  outfit  of 
shirts  and  clothes,  had  Bob  don  some  of  them, 
then  purchased  a  trunk,  ordered  the  things  packed 
in  it  and  sent  to  the  station,  finally  taking  Bob  for 
a  drive  about  the  city. 

At  first  Bob  had  protested,  but  the  vice-presi- 
dent silenced  him  by  saying  that  the  service  he  had 
rendered  the  railroad  was  worth  much  more  than 
the  clothes. 

Dinner  and  theatre  were  one  whirl  of  pleasure 
to  the  boy.  And  after  he  had  been  put  in  care  of 
the  conductor  of  the  limited,  had  bidden  good-bye 
to  Mr.  Nichols  and  the  detectives,  who  all  gath- 
ered to  see  him  off,  bringing  various  little  presents, 


142  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

and  the  train  was  in  motion,  he  sat  and  pondered 
over  the  series  of  events. 

But  his  surprises  were  not  ended,  for  when 
he  opened  the  envelope  containing  his  pass,  he 
found  two  crisp  fifty-dollar  bills  pinned  to  a  card, 
which  said: 

"For  Bob  Chester,  with  the  compliments  of 
the  Great  Western  Railroad." 

Nature,  however,  asserted  herself  at  last,  and 
Bob  went  to  sleep. 

Interesting  because  of  its  novelty,  the  journey 
proceeded  without  further  incidents,  and  in  due 
course  Bob  reached  Fairfax. 


SEEKING   A   JOB 

THE  stopping  of  the  Limited  at  the  little  settle- 
ment of  Fairfax  was  sufficient  to  arouse  the  curi- 
osity of  the  dozen  or  so  men  who  were  lounging 
about  the  station,  and  when  they  saw  that  such 
an  unusual  proceeding  was  to  allow  a  mere  boy 
to  alight,  they  stared  at  him  with  unfeigned  in- 
terest. 

"Must  be  the  son  of  some  big  bug,"  hazarded 
one  of  the  idlers. 

"Or  else  he  was  put  off  for  trying  to  beat  his 
way,"  declared  another,  whose  surly  disposition 
was  evident  in  his  words. 

"Can't  a  person  get  off  here  without  starting 
a  guessing  match?"  commented  a  third. 

"Of  course,"  replied  the  surly  man.  "But  it 
don't  seem  natural." 

During  these  remarks  Bob  was  engrossed  in 
gazing  at  the  place  he  had  chosen  in  which  to 
build  his  fortune,  and  the  prospect  was  not 
reassuring. 

About  half  a  mile  from  the  station  he  could 
143 


144  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

see  a  score  or  more  of  houses  built  in  all  sorts 
of  shapes,  and  possessing  anything  but  an  at- 
tractive appearance.  Beyond  the  settlement  and 
on  all  sides,  the  prairies  stretched  in  awesome 
vastness. 

As  he  surveyed  the  surroundings,  Bob  could 
not  restrain  a  sigh,  but  quickly  checked  it  as  a 
pleasant-faced,  powerfully  built  man  stepped 
briskly  from  the  cabin  which  served  as  station 
and  said  cheerily: 

"You're  Bob  Nichols,  I  suppose.  My  name 
is  Henry  Thomas.  Your  father  wired  me  to  be 
on  the  lookout  for  you.  I  had  to  report  the  train 
or  I'd  have  come  out  sooner.  What  can  I  do 
for  you  ?" 

Hearing  himself  addressed  as  Nichols  was  a 
distinct  shock  to  the  boy,  but  to  be  taken  for  the 
son  of  the  vice-president  of  the  railroad  com- 
pletely dumfounded  him,  and  for  a  moment  he 
was  on  the  point  of  denying  the  assumption.  Then 
his  promise  to  adopt  the  name  recurred  to  him 
and  he  decided  that  Mr.  Nichols'  failure  to  dis- 
claim relationship  was  probably  with  a  purpose, 
so  he  just  muttered  something  as  though  in  an- 
swer to  the  first  question  and  said  aloud: 

"I  should  be  obliged  if  you  would  direct  me 
to  the  hotel.  I  suppose  they  will  send  for  my 
trunk." 

"I'll  direct  you,  of  course,"  returned  the  agent, 


SEEKING  A  JOB  145 

"and  you  ran't  very  well  miss  it  because  it's  the 
only  one  in  town.  But  if  you  don't  mind,  I'd  like 
to  have  you  put  up  here  with  me."  Then  he  added 
in  a  low  voice:  "The  Red  Indian  isn't  the  sort 
of  place  you're  used  to  and  I'd  feel  safer  to  have 
you  here." 

"Oh,  all  right,"  laughed  Bob.  "I  shan't  be  in 
town  very  long;  that  is,  if  I  can  find  a  ranch  where 
they'll  take  me." 

"So  you're  bound  to  ranch  it,  eh?  You'll  find 
it  pretty  tough,"  commented  Thomas. 

"That's  what  I'm  here  for,"  answered  the  boy, 
smiling.  "I  guess  I  can  stand  it." 

"Mebbe  you  can  and  mebbe  you  can't,"  ob- 
served the  surly-looking  man,  who  had  edged  his 
way  to  where  the  agent  and  Bob  were  talking  and 
had  heard  the  boy's  last  remark. 

"It  all  depends  on  whose  ranch  you  strike. 
Most  cowpunchers  don't  cotton  to  tenderfeet. 
The  last  one  that  hit  Fairfax  stayed  just  three 
days  and  was  mighty  glad  to  light  out  on  a  freight 
train." 

"Now,  Higgins,  don't  try  to  scare  Mr.  Nich- 
ols," exclaimed  Thomas.  "His  father's  vice- 
president  of  the  Great  Western." 

"So  you  are  Si  Nichols'  son,  eh?"  inquired 
Higgins. 

"I  thought  out-West  people  weren't  supposed 
to  ask  questions,"  returned  Bob. 


146  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Good  boy!  That's  one  on  you,  HigginsI" 
chuckled  the  other  loungers  gleefully,  and  the  sta- 
tion agent  added:  "Now  leave  the  boy  alone. 
He's  my  guest  while  he's  in  Fairfax  and  any  trick 
played  on  him  I  shall  consider  a  personal  affront 
to  myself." 

As  the  agent  uttered  these  words,  he  drew  him- 
self to  his  full  height  and  Bob  could  see  that  he 
was  a  splendid  specimen  of  manhood.  And  that 
the  others  had  a  wholesome  respect  for  his  prow- 
ess was  evident  in  the  more  deferential  manner 
which  they  adopted  toward  Bob. 

"Oh,  if  he's  your  special  friend,  all  right,'* 
growled  Higgins,  but  he  added  under  his  breath, 
"I'll  have  some  fun  with  you,  Mr^Tenderfoot, 
see  if  I  don't." 

As  he  walked  with  the  agent  to  where  his  trunk 
lay  beside  the  track,  Bob  could  not  but  wonder 
what  his  reception  would  have  been  had  he  not 
made  the  chance  acquaintance  of  such  powerful 
friends,  and  he  thanked  his  good  fortune  that  he 
had  done  so,  for  he  felt  out  of  place  and  very 
lonely  in  a  strange  country  and  among  such  rough- 
mannered  men. 

Divining  what  was  passing  through  the  boy's 
mind  from  the  seriousness  of  his  face,  Thomas 
said: 

"You  mustn't  take  to  heart  what  these  men 
out  here  say  to  you,  Mr.  Nichols.  Wresting  a 


SEEKING  A  JOB  147 

livelihood  from  the  prairies  has  accustomed  them 
to  giving  and  receiving  hard  knocks,  and  they 
don't  stop  to  think  how  what  they  say  will  sound. 
Just  take  it  good-naturedly  and  give  them  back 
better  than  they  send — if  you  can." 

"I'll  try,"  said  the  boy.  "But  please  don't  call 
me  Mr.  Nichols.  Just  Bob.  I  like  it  better." 

At  this  request,  Bob  rose  a  hundred  per  cent, 
in  the  estimation  of  the  agent. 

"All  right.  But  if  I  do,  you  must  call  me  Hal," 
he  replied. 

When  they  had  carried  the  trunk  into  a  little 
room  off  the  station,  Thomas  said: 

"Can  you  ride  horseback  at  all,  Bob?" 

"No." 

"That's  too  bad.  You'll  have  to  learn.  Every- 
body rides  out  here.  I've  orders  to  get  you  the 
best  pony  possible  and  I  wanted  to  know  just 
what  kind  to  get.  Most  of  'em  have  some  mean 
trick.  But  there's  one,  Firefly  they  call  him,  that 
is  as  gentle  as  a  lamb.  Whether  Shorty  Simmons 
will  sell  him  or  not,  I  don't  know,  but  I'll  find 
out." 

"Is  he  fast?"  asked  Bob,  fearing  that  the  pony 
might  be  slow  and  old  because  he  was  gentle. 

"There's  not  a  horse  in  Fairfax  that  can  keep 
up  with  him.  Now  this  will  be  your  room.  It's 
mine  too,  but  I'll  move  if  you  wish." 

"If  you  do,  I'll  go  to  the  hotel." 


148  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"All  right,  I  won't.  While  you  arc  changing 
your  clothes,  I'll  ride  over  to  town  and  see  if  I 
can  buy  Firefly." 

The  group  of  loungers  was  still  on  the  platform 
when  the  agent  went  to  the  little  lean-to  beside  the 
station  where  he  kept  his  horse,  saddled  and 
mounted  it,  and  as  they  saw  him  ride  forth  a 
wicked  gleam  appeared  in  Higgins'  eyes. 

He  calculated  that  Bob  would  soon  emerge 
from  the  seclusion  of  the  station,  and  in  such 
event  he  recognized  his  opportunity  for  carrying 
out  his  vow  to  have  some  fun  with  the  boy. 

Eager  to  begin  Western  life,  Bob  quickly  took 
off  his  new  suit  and  put  on  a  pair  of  the  corduroy 
trousers  and  one  of  the  blue  flannel  shirts  Mr. 
Nichols  had  bought  him  and  then  proudly  placed 
on  his  head  a  sombrero. 

Standing  before  the  looking  glass,  he  surveyed 
the  effect,  saying  to  himself  as  he  noted  the  change 
the  costume  made  in  his  appearance: 

"I  don't  believe  Mr.  Dardus  or  anyone  back 
in  New  York  would  know  me  now." 

But  not  long  did  he  linger  gazing  at  himself. 
The  voices  of  the  men  on  the  platform  were  aud- 
ible and  he  decided  to  join  the  group  in  the  hope 
that  from  some  chance  remark  he  might  learn 
of  a  ranch  where  he  could  obtain  a  job  as  cow- 
boy. For  though  he  was  grateful  to  the  agent, 
Bob  wanted  to  be  independent. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ON  THE  TRACK 

"Now  you  look  more  as  though  you  belonged 
in  Fairfax,"  declared  one  of  the  loungers  as  Bob 
joined  them. 

"All  except  the  clothes  and  hat,"  grunted  Hig- 
gins.  "Say,  you  won't  have  any  trouble  getting  a 
job  if  you  go  just  as  you  are.  Any  rancher  would 
hire  you  to  scare  coyotes  away  from  the  home 
ranch." 

This  sally  at  his  expense  sent  a  hot  flush  to 
Bob's  cheeks,  but,  remembering  the  agent's  ad- 
vice to  give  back  better  than  he  received,  he 
retorted: 

"If  there  were  any  such  jobs  around,  I  should 
think  they'd  pay  you  double  wages !" 

"Now  will  you  try  to  get  fresh  with  a  tender- 
foot?" asked  one  of  the  others  when  their  laugh- 
ter at  Bob's  sharp  rejoinder  had  subsided. 

"I  ain't  trying  to  get  fresh,"  returned  Higgins. 
"I'm  just  feeling  the  boy  out.  The  sooner  he 
gets  used  to  Fairfax  ways,  the  better." 

But  Bob's  retort  evidently  inspired  in  him  a 
149 


150  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

greater  respect  for  the  boy  and  he  refrained  from 
making  any  more  comments  on  his  personal 
appearance. 

After  the  interchange  of  a  few  general  remarks, 
Bob  said: 

"I  should  be  very  grateful  if  some  of  you  gen- 
tlemen would  tell  me  of  a  ranch  where  I  can 
apply  for  a  job.  I'd  rather  like  to  get  one  with- 
out Mr.  Thomas'  assistance." 

In  this  request  Higgins  saw  his  chance.  About 
ten  miles  from  the  settlement  there  lived  a  ranch- 
man who  was  a  man  of  mystery.  Though  his 
grazing  ground  was  good  and  well-watered,  and 
his  pay  prompt,  he  had  such  a  temper  that  few 
cowboys  would  stay  with  him  longer  than  a  month 
or  less,  and  to  him  Higgins  decided  to  send  Bob. 

With  this  purpose,  while  the  others  were  evi- 
dently trying  to  think  of  a  suitable  place  for  the 
boy,  he  said: 

"There's  only  one  I  can  think  of  and  that's 
John  Ford." 

"Ford?"  repeated  Bob,  his  memory  instantly 
recalling  what  the  strange  man  with  the  scar  had 
said  about  Sam  and  John  Ford.  "Where  does 
he  live?" 

"Ten  miles  due  west." 

"Now,  Higgins,  you  know  better  than  to  send 
this  boy  out  there.  Remember  what  Hal  said 
about  playing  tricks  on  him." 


ON  THE  TRACK  151 

Evidently  this  reminder  had  an  effect  upon  the 
schemer,  for  he  answered  apologetically: 

"Well,  he  asked  about  a  place  and  I  told  him. 
You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  John  Ford  always 
wants  help." 

"Sure  we  know  it.  But  it  ain't  no  fit  place  for 
such  a  boy." 

Something  suggested  to  Bob,  however,  that  he 
should  go  to  this  ranchman,  and  accordingly  he 
said: 

"You  needn't  think  I  am  so  tender.  Just  be- 
cause other  men  can't  get  along  with  Mr.  Ford 
is  no  sign  I  can't.  What  is  the  nearest  way  to 
get  there?" 

"So  long  as  you've  got  to  walk,  go  straight 
down  the  track  till  you  see  a  building  with  a  red 
roof,  on  the  left  hand  side,"  directed  Higgins. 

And  before  the  others  could  protest,  Bob  ut- 
tered a  hasty  "thank  you,"  and  set  off  along  the 
track  at  a  dog  trot. 

"You'll  get  yours,  Higgins,  when  Hal  gets 
back,"  asserted  the  man  who  protested  against 
Bob's  being  sent  to  Ford's. 

"And  you  didn't  even  warn  him  about  the  dog," 
chided  another. 

At  this  reminder  of  the  savage  wolfhound  that 
John  Ford  kept  to  guard  his  cabin,  the  idlers  grew 
serious  and  exchanged  uneasy  glances. 

"Oh,  well !  Ford'll  probably  see  the  boy  so  long 


152  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

as  he  comes  from  the  direction  of  the  railroad. 
Yellow  Tom  told  me  he  sits  by  the  hour  looking 
toward  the  track — and  he'll  call  off  the  brute." 

"Providing  the  beast  don't  chew  the  boy  up 
before  John  sees  him,"  interposed  another. 

"Now,  Tracy,  don't  always  be  looking  for 
trouble,"  growled  Higgins.  "Life  out  West  ain't 
no  kindergarten.  We  had  to  take  our  knocks.  Let 
the  kid  get  his.  Just  because  his  father  is  rich 
ain't  no  reason  why  we  should  carry  pillows 
around  for  him  to  fall  on." 

This  crude  viewpoint,  if  not  satisfying  to  the 
consciences  of  Higgins'  companions  at  least 
afforded  relief,  and  they  fell  to  wondering  what 
Bob  would  say  to  them  on  his  return — for  return 
they  expected  he  would. 

In  the  meantime,  the  object  of  their  thoughts 
was  hurrying  as  rapidly  as  he  could  over  the  rough 
roadbed. 

The  crisp,  bracing  air  seemed  a  stimulant  to  his 
lungs  which  had  never  breathed  any  but  the  con- 
taminated air  of  New  York,  and  he  gloried  in  the 
fact  that  he  was  at  last  in  a  land  where  success 
did  not  depend  on  influence  and  riches,  but  where 
a  man  "made  good"  or  failed,  according  to 
whether  he  was  made  of  the  right  stuff  or  not. 

For  a  time,  his  mind  dwelt  upon  the  insinuations 
Higgins  and  the  others  had  made  against  Ranch- 
man Ford,  but  the  same  power  that  had  urged  him 


ON  THE  TRACK  153 

to  seek  a  job  of  this  man  whispered  to  him  that 
he  had  nothing  to  fear.  Dismissing  all  forebod- 
ings, therefore,  Bob  began  to  wonder  if  there 
could  be  any  connection  between  Ford,  the  man 
with  the  scar  and  his  father.  The  subject  sug- 
gested so  many  possibilities  and  was,  altogether, 
so  vague,  that,  healthy-minded  boy  as  he  was,  he 
decided  not  to  ponder  over  it  longer. 

"There's  no  use  building  air  castles,"  he  told 
himself.  "If  Mr.  Ford  hires  me  and  knows  any- 
thing about  father,  I'll  find  it  out  in  due  time. 
There's  one  good  thing,  if  I  do  land  the  job,  Red 
Top  will  be  ten  miles  nearer — and  I  can  get  away 
.without  exciting  so  much  comment  as  from 
Fairfax." 

From  time  to  time  as  Bob  trudged  along,  he 
scanned  the  plains  on  both  sides  of  the  track. 

Thanks  to  the  milestones  placed  at  the  side  of 
the  roadbed  he  was  able  to  keep  count  of  the  miles 
he  walked.  Just  after  he  had  passed  the  eighth 
stone  from  Fairfax,  Bob  was  electrified  to  see  a 
herd  of  cattle  in  the  distance.  Pausing,  he  gazed 
at  them  interestedly,  noticing  that  they  were  mov- 
ing steadily  instead  of  grazing.  What  this  meant, 
he  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  until  of  a  sudden 
he  saw  three  men  on  horseback  emerge  from  the 
herd  and,  with  arms  waving,  ride  like  mad  to  the 
head  of  the  line  and  gradually  change  the  direction 
of  the  cattle  away  from  the  track. 


154  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

No  need  was  there  to  tell  him  the  riders  were 
cowboys,  and  Bob  thrilled  with  excitement  as  he 
watched  their  wonderful  riding.  But  he  did  not 
wait  till  they  were  out  of  sight.  Instead,  he 
quickened  his  pace,  murmuring: 

"The  sooner  I  get  to  Mr.  Ford's,  tfce  sooner 
I'll  be  a  cowboy." 

The  walk  on  the  track  was  tiresome,  however, 
unaccustomed  to  such  rough  traveling  as  he  was, 
and  it  was  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  he  finally 
caught  sight  of  a  group  of  buildings,  one  of  which 
had  a  red-top  roof. 

"That  must  be  the  place,"  he  exclaimed  and, 
quickly  leaving  the  track,  started  across  the  prai- 
rie. But  Bob  found  that  walking  on  the  ties  was 
easy  compared  to  forcing  his  way  through  waist- 
high  grass  and  stubborn  sage-brush. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

AN  AMAZING  RECEPTION 

AT  LAST,  however,  Bob  emerged  into  a  clearing 
and  stopped  to  survey  the  group  of  buildings.  The 
one  with  the  red  roof  faced  the  track  and  was 
built  of  logs.  It  was  only  one  story  high  and 
about  twenty  feet  long.  The  other  two  stood 
one  on  each  side  and  were  about  twice  as  long  but 
no  higher.  Back  of  the  building,  toward  the  west, 
was  an  enclosure  surrounded  by  a  high  fence. 

Had  any  one  familiar  with  ranches  been  with 
Bob,  they  could  have  told  him  that  enclosure  was 
the  corral,  into  which  the  cowboys  turned  their 
ponies  when  at  the  ranch,  that  the  long  building 
nearest  the  corral  was  the  bunkhouse  for  the  cow- 
boys, and  that  the  other  long  structure  was  the 
eating-house  and  storeroom  of  the  ranch.  But  it 
was  not  long  before  Bob  learned  these  facts  for 
himself. 

To  all  appearances,  there  was  not  a  soul  in  any 
of  the  three  houses  and,  as  Bob  stood  gazing  at 
them,  trying  to  discover  some  sign  of  life,  for  he 

155 


156  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

was  loath  to  take  the  long  tramp  back  to  Fairfax 
without  at  least  having  asked  Ranchman  Ford  for 
a  job,  he  was  suddenly  startled  to  see  a  huge  dog 
bounding  toward  him,  its  lips  drawn  back  dis- 
closing wickedly-long  fangs. 

Bob's  first  impulse  was  to  flee,  but  such  tremen- 
dous leaps  did  the  creature  take  that  he  realized 
it  would  be  only  a  few  minutes  before  the  dog 
would  overtake  him.  Then  it  flashed  through  his 
mind  that  this  might  be  the  ranchman's  way  of 
"trying  out"  strangers  who  came  to  his  door,  and 
the  boy  determined  to  stand  his  ground. 

"I'll  show  them  that  a  'tenderfoot'  has  some 
courage,"  Bob  said,  as  he  braced  himself  for  the 
impact  when  the  dog  should  leap  upon  him. 

All  the  while,  he  had  been  steadily  looking  into 
the  dog's  eyes,  and  just  as  the  creature  was  upon 
him  the  same  power  that  had  urged  him  to  come 
to  the  Ford  ranch  seemed  to  tell  him  to  speak  to 
the  animal. 

"Steady,  boy!  Steady!  I'm  not  going  to  do  any 
harm  here,"  he  exclaimed. 

Whether  in  surprise  at  the  boy's  unusual  pro- 
cedure in  facing  him — most  callers  at  the  ranch 
either  hastened  away  or  yelled  to  Ford  to  call 
off  his  dog — or  what,  the  beast  hesitated  before 
his  last  leap  that  would  have  brought  him  on  top 
of  Bob  and  then,  beginning  to  prance  playfully, 
h*  approached  fawningly. 


AN  AMAZING  RECEPTION  157 

"Good  boy!  That's  the  way.  We  ought  to  be 
good  friends,  you  and  I.  Come  here,"  exclaimed 
Bob,  and  as  the  dog  came  up,  he  patted  his  head 
caressingly. 

The  boy's  relief  was  so  great  at  finding  the 
savage  beast  did  not  attempt  to  tear  him  limb 
from  limb  that  he  failed  to  notice  the  door  of  the 
red-roofed  cabin  open  and  a  grizzled  .head 
emerge. 

But  the  next  instant  the  presence  of  the  man 
was  called  to  his  attention  by  a  terrific  roar: 

"Chester!" 

Amazed  at  hearing  his  name,  Bob  gazed  open- 
mouthed  toward  the  house. 

By  this  time,  the  man  had  come  out  onto  the 
ground  and  the  boy  beheld  a  tall,  spare-boned 
man,  with  weather-tanned  face,  a  scrubby  beard, 
and  a  mass  of  tousled  hair. 

The  dog,  however,  paid  no  heed  to  the  voice, 
rubbing  against  Bob  and  licking  his  hands. 

Again  came  the  bellow. 

"Chester!   Come  here!" 

Too  alarmed  by  the  imperiousness  of  the  tone 
to  wonder  how  the  secret  of  his  identity  could  be 
known  by  this  man  of  the  plains,  Bob  called: 

"Yes,  sir.     Right  away,  sir." 

But  if  the  hearing  of  his  name  had  caused  Bob 
surprise,  his  response  created  more  in  the  man. 


158  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Oh!  It's  not  you  I  want!"  he  yelled.  "It's 
that  fool  dog!  Come  here,  sir!" 

But  the  dog  obeyed  no  better  than  before. 

A  moment  the  ranchman  glared  at  it,  his  face 
terrible  in  its  anger,  then  dropped  his  hand  to  his 
hip  and  drew  forth  a  revolver. 

Divining  his  intention,  Bob  leaped  in  front  of 
the  dog,  exclaiming: 

"Don't  shoot,  sir !  The  dog  has  done  nothing !" 

"Done  nothing,  eh?  I  suppose  you  call  making 
friends  with  a  stranger  nothing.  Stand  aside !" 

But  Bob  did  not  move. 

"Just  because  a  dog  makes  friends  with  me  is 
no  reason  for  shooting  him,"  he  retorted. 

A  moment  the  man  glowered  sullenly  from  the 
dog  to  the  boy,  then,  attracted  by  something  about 
the  latter,  came  closer  and  peered  eagerly  into 
Bob's  face. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  demanded. 

"Bob  Nichols." 

"Nichols,  eh?  Then  I  must  have  been  mis- 
taken," he  added  in  a  voice  too  low  for  the  boy 
to  hear,  and  a  look  of  disappointment  settled  on 
his  face  as  he  continued  aloud:  "Well,  what  do 
you  want?" 

"You  are  Mr.  Ford,  I  presume?"  asked  Bob. 

"I  am;  John  Ford,  owing  no  man  a  cent  and 
afraid  of  nothing,  or  no  one  on  earth." 

Smiling  at  this  unusual  introduction,  Bob  said: 


AN  AMAZING  RECEPTION  159 

"I  came  out  to  ask  if  you'd  give  me  a  job  on 
your  ranch,  Mr.  Ford." 

"Know  anything  about  ranching?" 

"No,  sir.     But  I  can  learn." 

"Who  sent  you  to  me?" 

"A  Mr.  Higgins." 

"Ned  Higgins,  eh?  Trying  another  of  his 
jokes,  I  suppose.  Probably  thought  the  dog  would 
chew,  you  up." 

Then  for  a  moment  that  seemed  hours  to  the 
anxious  boy,  the  ranchman  pondered,  finally  ex- 
claiming : 

"Well,  we'll  fool  Higgins  this  time.  I'll  take 
you  on  for  a  try.  You're  sure  game  or  you 
wouldn't  have  stood  before  that  fool  dog,  the  way 
you  did.  Come  in  and  we'll  talk  about  wages." 

And,  as  Bob  entered  the  cabin,  Ford  turned  to 
look  at  the  dog,  muttering  to  himself : 

"Strange,  mighty  strange.  I  never  knew  him 
to  make  friends  with  any  one  before." 


CHAPTER  XX 

BOB  BECOMES  OWNER  OF  A  DOG 

INTERESTEDLY  Bob  gazed  about  him  as  he  en- 
tered, for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  home  of  a 
ranchman.  At  the  left  of  the  door,  a  bunk,  cov- 
ered with  brilliant-colored  blankets — which,  had 
the  boy  known  they  were  the  handiwork  of  In- 
dians, would  have  interested  him  greatly — ex- 
tended from  the  wall.  Above  this  crude  bed  was 
a  rack  holding  three  rifles  and  several  revolvers. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  were  a  cupboard 
and  table,  while  in  the  rear  was.  another  cup- 
board, and  a  stove.  A  rocking  and  two  straight- 
backed  chairs  completed  the  furnishings. 

Just  what  Bob  had  expected  to  find  in  the  cabin 
he  could  not  have  told,  but  its  severity  and  bar- 
renness disappointed  him. 

"Sit  down,"  grunted  the  ranchman,  motioning 
Bob  to  one  of  the  straight-backed  chairs  while  he 
himself  sank  into  the  rocker. 

As  Bob  obeyed,  the  dog  stretched  himself  at 
his  feet. 

160 


BOB  OWNS  A  DOG  161 

Searchingly  the  ranchman  scanned  the  boy's 
face,  and  the  silence  was  becoming  embarrassing 
when  Ford  broke  it  by  demanding  suddenly: 

"What  did  you  say  your  name  was?" 

"Bob  Nichols." 

"Where  do  you  come  from?" 

"New  York." 

This  answer  caused  the  ranchman  to  sit  up 
straight  and  again  scrutinize  the  boy's  features, 
as  he  asked: 

"Got  any  folks?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Live  alone  in  New  York?" 

"No,  sir.    With  my  guardian." 

"What  made  you  come  out  here?" 

"I  wanted  to  be  a  cowboy  and  make  my  for* 
tune." 

"Cow  punching  ain't  a  paved  highway  to 
riches." 

"But  you  are  rich,  aren't  you?" 

At  this  leading  question,  the  grizzled  man  of 
the  plains  scowled,  a  suspicion  of  Bob's  purpose 
in  seeking  a  job  with  him  flashing  into  his  mind 
as  he  replied: 

"Mebbe  I  am  and  mebbe  I  ain't.  What  made 
you  think  I  was  ?" 

"Mr.  Higgins  and  the  other  men  said  you 


were." 


"Huh  I  them  fellows  had  better  mind  their  own 


162  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

business,"  grunted  the  ranchman;  but  the  in- 
genuous reply  and  the  open  honesty  of  the  boy's 
face  banished  his  suspicions,  and  he  continued  his 
questioning. 

The  length  to  which  the  catechising  extended 
amazed  Bob,  in  view  of  what  he  had  been  told 
and  had  read  in  regard  to  not  asking  questions, 
and  he  made  his  replies  as  brief  as  possible,  taking 
good  care  to  give  only  the  most  general  informa- 
tion about  himself. 

Perceiving  this,  Ford  finally  asked : 

"How  much  wages  do  you  want?" 

"I'll  leave  that  to  you,  Mr.  Ford.  As  I  don't 
know  anything  about  ranching,  I  don't  expect  much 
and  I'm  willing  to  trust  you  to  do  what  is  right.1* 

This  confidence  in  his  squareness  appealed  more 
to  the  ranchman  than  anything  else  Bob  could 
have  said  or  done. 

Leading  the  life  of  a  recluse  as  he  did  and 
assuming  a  manner  of  forbidding  austerity  when 
forced  to  meet  his  fellows,  the  man  had  been  en- 
dowed by  them  with  a  reputation  for  close — if 
not  sharp — dealing,  and  this  trust  in  him  evinced 
by  the  boy  moved  him  deeply,  and  with  a  voice  in 
which  there  was  a  half  sob,  he  returned : 

"You  won't  lose  by  leaving  the  matter  of  wages 
to  me,  boy.  Don't  you  worry  about  that,  no  mat- 
ter what  Ned  Higgins  or  his  cronies  tell  you." 

"I  shall  not  discuss  my  affairs  with  outsiders," 


BOB  OWNS  A  DOG  163 

replied  Bob  with  seriousness  that  brought  a  smile 
to  the  plainsman's  face. 

"Good !  Now,  let's  get  down  to  business.  Can 
you  ride?" 

"No.    But  I  can  learn." 

"You'll  have  to.  A  man  on  a  ranch  who  can't 
ride  is  about  as  useless  as  a  rifle  without  car- 
tridges. Let's  see,  you'll  need  a  safe  pony  to 
learn  on.  I  guess  I'll  let  you  try  old  Sox.  He 
never  was  mean  and  he  still  has  some  speed.  Pick 
up  that  saddle  there,"  and  he  pointed  to  what  is 
called  a  Mexican  saddle,  which  has  a  high  pommel 
and  back;  "the  bridle  is  tied  to  it,  and  we'll  go 
out  to  the  corral.  You  ought  to  get  so  you  can 
do  pretty  well  by  night.  You've  got  to,  because  I 
need  another  puncher  with  my  short-horn  herd 
over  by  Red  Top." 

The  thought  that  he  was  to  be  stationed  close 
to  the  town  that  might  hold  secrets  of  the  greatest 
importance  to  himself  so  excited  Bob  that  his 
hands  trembled  as  he  seized  the  saddle. 

Attributing  this  action  to  fear  of  the  broncho, 
Ford  said: 

"You  sure  ain't  scared  of  riding  a  pony  when 
you  faced  Chester,  are  you?" 

"No,  I'm  not" 

"Then  why  are  you  trembling  so?" 

"Oh,  because  I'm  so  happy  at  having  found  a 
job,  I  guess,"  dissembled  Bob.  And  then,  in  order 


164  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

to  direct  the  ranchman's  attention  from  himself, 
he  asked: 

"Why  do  you  call  your  dog  Chester?" 

This  question  served  Bob's  purpose  better  than 
he  could  have  desired,  for  it  caused  the  grizzled 
plainsman  to  start  suddenly. 

Instantly  recovering  himself,  however,  he  coun- 
tered by  demanding  sharply: 

"What  makes  you  ask  that?" 

"Because  it's  such  a  queer  name  for  a  dog." 

"Well,  he's  a  queer  dog,"  returned  Ford 
tersely.  "Now,  come  along  with  that  saddle." 

As  though  aware  of  their  purpose,  the  dog  had 
preceded  them  from  the  cabin,  but  as  Ford  and 
Bob  stepped  forth,  he  stopped,  began  to  sniff  the 
air  and  then  emitted  a  long,  low  growl. 

"Somebody's  coming,"  announced  the  ranch- 
man, pausing  and  following  the  direction  of  the 
wolfhound's  gaze. 

Eagerly  Bob  did  the  same,  and  in  a  few 
moments  beheld  a  man  riding  a  horse  and  leading 
another. 

Instantly  it  flashed  to  the  boy's  mind  that  the 
horseman  was  his  friend  the  station  agent,  who, 
having  learned  his  destination,  had  followed,  and 
he  exclaimed: 

"That's  Hal  Thomas!" 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  demanded  Ford 
sharply. 


BOB  OWNS  A  DOG  165 

"Because  he's  a  friend  of  mine  and  he  was  try- 
ing to  buy  a  horse  for  me  when  I  started  for  your 
ranch." 

"Well,  you  couldn't  have  a  better  friend,"  as- 
serted the  ranchman. 

During  this  colloquy  the  dog  had  set  up  a 
furious  barking  and  snarling,  leaping  about  in  evi- 
dent readiness  to  spring  upon  the  horseman  when 
he  should  get  well  within  the  clearing. 

By  this  time  the  two  men  and  boy  were  near 
enough  to  recognize  one  another,  and  Bob's  sur- 
mise was  correct,  for  the  rider  was  none  other 
than  Hal  Thomas  with  Firefly. 

"Hey,  Ford,  call  off  your  dog,"  yelled  the 
agent. 

"Ain't  my  dog!"  retorted  the  ranchman  harshly. 

"Since  when?"  inquired  Thomas,  with  difficulty 
managing  the  two  ponies  that  were  plunging  in 
fright  at  the  antics  of  the  snarling,  snapping 
hound. 

"About  thirty  minutes  ago." 

"Whose  is  it,  then?" 

"This  boy  here." 

"Mine?"  exclaimed  Bob  in  amazement. 

"Uhuh !  I  ain't  no  use  for  a  dog  anybody  else 
can  handle." 

But  Bob  did  not  hear  the  last  words.  No  sooner 
assured  that  the  savage  beast  was  his,  than  he 
called : 


166  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Steady!  Chester!  Come  here,  sir  1" 
Uncertain  whether  or  not  to  obey,  the  dog 
looked  from  Bob  to  the  horses.  But  the  boy 
quickly  repeated  his  commands,  running  toward 
the  hound,  and  the  animal,  with  a  parting  snarl 
at  the  agent,  turned  and  trotted  to  the  side  of 
his  new  master,  where  he  took  his  stand  as  though 
waiting  to  defend  him,  should  it  be  necessary. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AT  THE  RANCH 

As  THE  ranchman  watched  this  scene,  his  face 
was  a  study,  but  he  soon  forgot  it  in  listening  to 
the  conversation  between  Thomas  and  Bob. 

"Do  you  think  it  was  quite  fair  to  run  away 
while  I  was  trying  to  find  a  pony  for  you  ?"  asked 
the  agent. 

"Don't  scold,  Hal,"  returned  Bob.  "I  suppose 
it  wasn't  quite  fair.  But  I  wanted  to  surprise  you 
by  getting  a  job  myself,  without  anybody's  help." 

Smiling  at  the  boy's  independence,  Thomas 
asked : 

"Have  you  got  it?" 

Before  Bob  could  answer,  the  ranchman  in- 
terposed: 

"Looks  like  it,  don't  it?  First  he  won  my — I 
mean  his — dog,  and  then  he  won  me.  Yes,  Hal, 
Bob's  landed  and  you  can  tell  Ned  Higgins  from 
me  that  if  he  tries  to  put  up  any  more  jokes  on 
Bob,  I'll  fix  him  so  he  can't  speak  for  a  year." 

167 


168  jJOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"All  right,  John,"  smiled  the  agent  "But  I 
reckon  he  won't  try  any  more  I" 

So  significant  was  the  agent's  tone  that  Bob  in- 
quired anxiously: 

"You  didn't  do  anything  to  him  for  sending 
me  to  Mr.  Ford,  did  you,  Hal?" 

"No,  not  much,"  returned  Thomas  grimly.  Yet 
had  he  told  the  entire  truth  he  would  have  said 
he  had  administered  such  a  beating  to  the  prac- 
tical joker,  upon  learning  where  he  had  sent  Bob, 
as  Fairfax  had  never  seen  given  by  one  man  to 
another. 

"Won't  you  come  in?"  asked  the  ranchman. 

"No,  thanks.  Can't  stop.  Got  to  get  back  for 
a  train.  Here,  Bob,  come  and  mount  Firefly.  He's 
yours." 

"What,  you  bought  Firefly  for  this  boy?"  ex- 
claimed Ford  in  surprise. 

"That's  what."  Then  turning  to  Bob,  he  added, 
"Put  your  left  foot  in  the  stirrup  and  swing  into 
the  saddle.  That's  the  way.  Say,  John,  let  Bob 
ride  back  a  way  with  me.  I  want  to  show  him  a 
few  things  about  a  pony." 

"Oh,  do!"  chimed  in  Bob. 

"All  right,  though  I  was  calculating  to  teach 
him  myself,"  returned  Ford,  a  light  such  as  the 
station  agent  had  never  before  seen  in  his  eyes. 

"Can  I  take  Chester?"  asked  Bob. 

"Sure,  he's  yours!" 


AT  THE  RANCH  169 

"Come,  boy,"  called  Bob.  Then  noticing  that 
Hal  wanted  to  say  a  word  to  the  ranchman,  he 
exclaimed:  "Don't  tell  him  who  I  am,  please" 
And  as  the  agent  hesitated,  he  added,  shrewdly, 
"Mr.  Nichols  wouldn't  like  it." 

"All  right,  if  you  say  not,"  returned  Hal. 

And  wheeling  their  ponies,  the  two  rode  off 
across  the  plains,  the  dog  bounding  joyfully  along 
at  Bob's  side. 

Gazing  after  them,  even  when  they  had  dis- 
appeared from  sight,  stood  John  Ford. 

As  the  agent  had  said,  Firefly  was  so  gentle  and 
had  such  an  easy  gait  that  after  the  first  few 
minutes'  fear  had  passed  Bob  found  he  could  not 
only  keep  in  the  saddle,  but  could  enjoy  the  mo- 
tion of  the  pony. 

Critically  Thomas  watched  him,  riding  close  at 
his  side  to  be  at  hand  in  case  of  trouble,  finally 
exclaiming  in  hearty  approval : 

"You  take  to  a  horse  like  a  duck  to  water,  Bob." 

"Do  you  mean  that,  Hal?" 

"I  sure  do.  Now  dismount  and  I'll  show  you 
a  trick  or  two."  And  as  soon  as  the  boy  was  on 
the  ground,  he  continued:  "Some  ponies  have  a 
mean  way  of  starting  just  as  soon  as  you  put  your 
foot  in  the  stirrups.  No  matter  how  nervous  your 
mount  is,  by  drawing  the  left  rein — remember  you 
always  handle  a  saddle  horse  from  the  left  side — 
so  short  that  ft  turns  the  pony's  head,  you  can 


170  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

make  him  circle  round  and  round,  instead  of  run- 
ning straight  ahead,  which  will  give  you  a  chance 
to  swing  into  the  saddle.  Now  try  it." 

Without  difficulty  Bob  performed  the  feat. 

"Good,"  commented  his  instructor.  "We'll 
both  dismount  and  I'll  teach  you  how  to  hobble 
your  pony.  Whenever  you  turn  a  pony  loose  on 
the  plains,  whether  in  the  day  time  or  at  night, 
always  hobble  him.  You  never  know  what  may 
happen  when  you  are  'punching  cattle'  and  often- 
times by  having  your  pony  handy  it  will  save  you 
a  lot  of  trouble,  to  put  it  mildly." 

While  he  was  speaking,  Thomas  had  taken 
Bob's  lariat,  which  hung  from  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle,  and  drawing  the  noose  small  had  slipped 
it  over  his  pony's  right  hoof. 

"There  are  two  ways  of  hobbling,"  he  con- 
tinued, "one,  to  tie  the  front  and  hind  feet  on  the 
same  side,  the  other,  to  tie  both  front  feet.  As 
ponies  are  often  mighty  lively  animals,  I  don't 
need  to  tell  you  the  danger  or  difficulty  of  trying 
to  put  a  rope  around  their  hind  legs.  But  tying 
the  front  feet  is  easy.  Allow  about  seven  inches 
of  rope,  then  take  a  couple  of  turns  around  the 
left  fetlock,  make  a  half-hitch  and  tie  the  rest  of 
your  rope  about  the  pony's  neck. 

"Always  remember  to  do  that.  If  you  don't, 
some  time  the  rope  end  may  catch  between  the 


AT  THE  RANCH  171 

rocks  or  become  tangled  in  some  way  and  cause 
trouble. 

"When  you  stop  to  rest  after  a  hard  ride,  al- 
ways unsaddle,  whether  you  unbridle  or  not,  and 
then  wipe  the  dirt  and  sweat  from  where  the  sad- 
dle has  been.  It  rests  a  pony  more  than  anything 
you  can  do. 

"At  night,  when  you  are  on  the  plains,  always 
use  your  saddle  for  a  pillow,  then  no  one  can  steal 
it  from  you. 

"Those  are  the  main  points.  Any  special  tricks 
you'll  pick  up  from  John  and  the  boys. 

"Oh,  there's  one  more  thing:  whenever  you 
dismount  for  any  length  of  time,  pull  the  reins 
over  the  pony's  head  and  either  throw  them  over 
a  post  or  else  let  them  drag  on  the  ground.  I  don't 
know  why  it  is,  but  it  seems  to  make  the  pony 
think  he  is  tied." 

The  lesson  over,  Bob  and  Hal  remounted  and 
rode  on. 

At  the  request  of  the  latter,  the  boy  related  his 
experience  at  Ford's  ranch.  As  he  did  so,  the 
agent  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  mingled 
amazement  and  approval,  and  as  the  story  was 
finished,  exclaimed: 

"Bob,  you  sure  are  a  wonder!  How  you  had 
the  nerve  to  face  that  dog  on  foot,  I  don't  see. 
Many  a  man  on  horseback  has  been  forced  to  turn 
and  flee.  How  did  you  do  it?" 


BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Just  looked  him  In  the  eye 
and  spoke  to  him,  that's  all." 

But  the  explanation  did  not  satisfy  the  agent. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  he  said.  "I  fully  ex- 
pected to  find  you  lying  in  Ford's  cabin  all  chewed 
up.  And  here  your  clothes  aren't  even  torn.  I 
don't  understand  it.  This  is  the  first  time  Ches- 
ter has  ever  made  friends  with  anybody.  He  only 
minds  Ford  because  he's  afraid  of  him." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ON  THE  RANGE  STATION 

FOR  some  time  the  boy  and  the  man  rode  in 
silence,  each  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts. 

"Do  you  know  why  Mr.  Ford  calls  the  dog 
Chester?"  Bob  suddenly  asked. 

"He  had  to  give  him  some  name,  I  suppose." 

"But  it's  such  a  queer  name,  Hal.  I  asked  him 
and  he  wouldn't  tell  me." 

A  moment  the  agent  was  silent,  evidently  de- 
bating something  with  himself,  and  finally  said: 

"I  suppose  you  had  better  know,  Bob,  that 
there's  something  queer  about  John  Ford.  They 
tell  a  lot  of  stories  about  him,  but  the  one  most 
common  is  that  he's  waiting  till  he  gets  one  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  before  starting  on  a  tour 
of  revenge. 

"He  told  me  himself,  however,  that  when  he 
had  accumulated  that  amount  he  was  going  to  find 
a  man.  But  more  than  that  he  wouldn't  say. 

"If  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  ask  too  many  ques- 
tions." 

173 


174  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

During  the  conversation  they  had  covered  so 
much  ground  that  the  roofs  of  Fairfax  village 
were  visible  in  the  distance  and  as  he  noticed  this, 
the  agent  drew  rein,  saying: 

"I  didn't  realize  we  had  come  so  far.  You'd 
better  go  back,  Bob.  Suppose  you  can  find  the 
way?" 

"Sure.  If  I  can't  Chester  will  show  me,  won't 
you,  old  boy?" 

And  in  answer,  as  though  he  had  understood 
perfectly,  the  dog  started  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  ranch. 

"I  reckon  you'll  be  safe  with  him,"  commented 
the  agent.  "Take  care  of  yourself,  Bob.  And 
come  over  to  see  me  when  you  can.  By  the  way, 
has  John  said  where  he  was  going  to  send  you?" 

"Yes,  over  near  Red  Top,  with  his  short- 
horns." 

"You've  certainly  made  a  hit  with  him,  Bob. 
That's  the  best  and  easiest  berth  on  the  ranch. 
Grazing's  good  and  water  plenty.  You  hardly 
have  to  move  from  one  week  to  another.  So 
long."  And  he  gave  the  boy's  hand  a  hearty 
grip.  "I've  wired  your  father  of  your  safe  ar- 
rival. When  there  are  any  letters,  I'll  bring  them 
over." 

And  shaking  out  his  reins,  the  agent  galloped 
away. 

Bob,  however,  did  not  hurry  on  his  return  tor 


175 

the  ranch,  his  mind  being  occupied  with  trying  to 
find  the  reason  for  the  grizzled  plainsman's  evi- 
dent liking  for  him  and  his  kindness,  so  at  variance 
with  his  usual  manner. 

But  the  puzzle  was  too  difficult  for  him,  and 
he  finally  abandoned  it  to  dismount  and  practice 
the  things  the  agent  had  taught  him. 

Such  action  at  first  mystified  Firefly,  but  Bob 
patted  and  spoke  to  him,  explaining  what  he  was 
trying  to  do  just  as  though  he  were  talking  to  a 
human  being. 

"You  and  Chester  and  I  will  have  many  a  long 
day  and  night  together,  so  we  had  better  be  good 
friends  right  away.  I've  got  to  learn  to  hobble 
and  saddle  and  I  want  to  do  it  before  I  return 
to  the  ranch." 

Evidently  satisfied  with  this  explanation,  Firefly 
stood  quietly,  nibbling  at  the  grass  now  and  again, 
while  the  dog  sat  down  and  watched  operations. 

Having  finally  acquired  the  knack,  Bob  re- 
mounted and  was  soon  at  the  ranch,  where  he 
turned  his  pony  into  the  corral  and  carried  his 
saddle  to  the  cabin. 

"Then  you've  learned  enough  to  turn  your  pony 
into  the  corral,  eh?"  was  Ford's  greeting  as  Bob 
threw  his  saddle  on  the  floor. 

"Yes,  sir.  And  to  hobble  and  saddle  and  make 
my  horse  whirl  when  I'm  mounting." 

"Hal's  a  good  friend  to  have,"  commented  the 


i;6  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

ranchman.  "Did  he  show  you  how  to  throw  a 
rope?" 

"Do  you  mean  my  lariat?" 

"No,  I  mean  rope;  that's  what  we  call  it  on 
the  plains,  though  it  means  the  same  thing." 

"No,  he  didn't." 

"Then  I  will.  You'll  find  some  grub  in  the 
cupboard.  Eat  all  you  want  and  put  the  rest 
back." 

"But  aren't  you  going  to  eat  with  me?"  asked 
Bob  in  an  injured  tone. 

"I'd  like  to.  But  I  ain't  eaten  with  a  man 

since "  then  suddenly  checking  himself  he 

stammered,  "well,  since  twelve  year  ago." 

Eager,  indeed,  was  Bob  to  ask  the  reason  for 
this  custom,  but,  remembering  Hal's  warning,  he 
restrained  the  question  that  was  on  his  lips  just 
as  the  ranchman,  evidently  determined  to  end  the 
conversation,  went  outdoors. 

The  mention  of  eating  recalled  to  Bob  that  it 
was  hours  since  he  had  breakfasted,  and  hastily 
he  explored  the  cupboard,  bringing  forth  some 
crisp  bacon,  biscuits,  cookies  and  pie  while  from 
the  stove  he  took  the  coffee  pot,  then  sat  down  to  a 
meal  that  seemed,  to  his  keen  appetite,  the  best 
he  had  ever  tasted. 

As  he  was  finishing,  the  ranchman  came  in  and, 
when  the  food  had  been  put  away,  took  Bob  out 
to  teach  him  how  to  throw  the  rope. 


ON,  THE  RANGE  STATION  177 

For  this  purpose  Ford  had  driven  a  four-foot 
stake  into  the  ground.  Making  his  pupil  stand 
about  twenty  feet  from  it,  he  had  him  get  used 
to  whirling  the  rope  around  his  head  and  then 
told  him  to  drop  the  noose  over  the  post. 

At  first  Bob  failed,  but  he  was  soon  able  to 
drop  the  noose  over.  So  much  accomplished,  the 
ranchman  ordered  him  to  get  his  pony  and  try  to 
rope  the  stake  while  riding  past. 

This,  however,  was  more  difficult,  and  Bob 
made  more  misses  than  "ringers." 

"You  can  practice  that  on  the  range,  Bob.  We 
won't  waste  any  more  time  here.  I  want  to  take 
you  over  to  the  short-horns  tonight." 

"You  mean  I'm  to  go  on  duty  tonight?"  asked 
the  boy  in  delight. 

"Exactly.  Only  there  won't  be  much  to  do. 
Just  keep  awake  in  case  anything  happens.  I'll 
have  Merry  Dick,  the  best  of  my  boys,  stay  with 
you  for  a  day  or  so." 

The  ranchman  had  saddled  a  big  bay  broncho 
when  Bob  saddled  Firefly  and,  after  locking  the 
door  of  his  cabin,  they  galloped  away  toward  the 
west. 

On  the  ride  the  plainsman  gave  Bob  many 
valuable  pointers  about  what  to  do  if  trouble 
broke  out  in  the  herd,  and  for  getting  along  with 
the  other  cowboys. 

After  an  hour  or  more  of  riding,  they  came  to 


i;8  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

the  herd,  spread  out  over  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
of  plain,  and  rode  round  it  till  they  came  to  where 
four  cowboys  were  lolling  on  the  grass,  smoking. 

Looking  up  lazily  at  the  sight  of  their  boss, 
when  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  Bob's  fresh,  young 
face  they  evinced  a  lively  interest. 

"Boys,  this  is  Bob,"  said  Ford,  by  way  of  intro- 
duction. "Bob,  the  homeliest  of  the  lot  is  Merry 
Dick;  the  one  next  to  him  to  the  left  is  Yellow 
Tom;  next  is  Shorty  Flinn  and  the  last  is  Crazy 
Ned. 

"Dick,  you're  to  go  over  on  the  West  station 
with  Bob  for  three  days.  Get  some  grub  ready. 

"Now,  remember,  every  man  Jack  of  you,  Bob 
is  my  special  friend.  If  you  try  any  funny  business, 
you'll  have  to  settle  with  me;  and  don't  forget, 
cowboys  ain't  worth  near  as  much  as  a  lean  steer." 

And  without  another  word,  this  strange  man 
wheeled  his  horse  and  rode  away. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

BOB  OVERHEARS  A  SECOND  PLOT 

CHESTER  had  accompanied  Bob  and  Ford  to 
the  cowboys'  station,  and  when  they  saw  that  the 
dog  showed  no  signs  of  returning,  Yellow  Tom 
called  out: 

"Hey,  you  Ford.  Take  this  cur  of  yours  with 
you — or  I  won't  stay  on  the  job  another  minute." 

The  ranchman,  however,  either  did  not  hear  or 
pretended  not  to,  and  after  a  minute  Bob  said: 

"Mr.  Ford  has  given  Chester  to  me." 

"What?"  chorused  the  cowboys,  in  amazement. 

"I  said  that  Mr.  Ford  had  given  Chester  to 
me,"  replied  Bob. 

"And  you  let  him?"  queried  Crazy  Ned,  staring 
at  the  boy  as  though  he  must  be  daft. 

"Why  not?" 

"You're  liable  to  wake  up  in  mincemeat  some 
fine  day,  that's  all,"  commented  Yellow  Tom 
drily. 

"Oh,  I  guess  not,"  answered  Bob.  "Chester 
and  I  are  good  friends,  aren't  we,  my  boy?"  and 

179 


i8o  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

dismounting,  he  called  the  dog  to  him  and  stroked 
his  head. 

A  moment  the  cowboys  watched  the  proceeding 
in  amazement,  then  Shorty  Flinn  voiced  their  feel- 
ings by  saying : 

"Am  I  dreamin'  or  is  this  tenderfoot  pattin* 
that  ornery  cur?" 

"He's  pattin'  him,  all  right,"  returned  Merry 
Dick.  "Say,  kid,  you're  a  wonder.  There  ain't 
MO  man  ever  dared  touch  that  dog  so  long  as  I've 
known  about  him  and  that's  for  ten  years." 

"But  can  you  make  him  mind?"  demanded  Yel- 
low Tom. 

"Surely." 

"Then  stop  his  growlin*  at  me." 

Recognizing  this  as  a  test,  Bob  stroked  the  dog's 
head  caressingly,  saying,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone: 

"Stop  growling,  boy.  None  of  these  men  are 
going  to  harm  me." 

A  moment  the  dog  looked  at  Bob,  then  lei- 
surely glanced  from  one  to  another  of  the  cow- 
boys— and  stopped  snarling. 

"That  beats  all,"  declared  Crazy  Ned.  "Say, 
kid,  you  don't  need  to  fear  anybody's  playin' 
tricks  on  you  when  that  brute  is  with  you." 

"No,  I  guess  not,"  smiled  Bob.  And  then  in  a 
burst  of  confidence  he  added:  "But  I  don't  want 
people  to  be  nice  because  they  are  afraid  of  Ches- 


A  SECOND  PLOT  181 

ter.  If  they  don't  like  me  for  myself,  I  don't 
want  them  to  like  me  at  all." 

"That's  all  right,  kid.  But  there's  some  ornery 
critturs  wearin'  the  clothes  of  cowboys,  so  just 
take  advice  of  a  man  who  knows  and  keep  the  dog 
with  you,"  said  Yellow  Tom. 

"Yellow's  givin'  it  to  you  straight,"  asserted 
Shorty  Flinn.  "There's  some  folks  ain't  never 
happy  unless  they're  makin'  others  onhappy." 

Bob  took  the  advice  in  the  spirit  it  was  given 
and,  while  Merry  Dick  was  putting  together 
enough  food  to  last  them  for  the  three  days  he 
was  to  be  with  the  boy,  chatted  and  joked  with 
them,  answering  such  questions  as  he  saw  fit  and 
turning  off  those  he  did  not  care  to.  And  such 
manliness  and  good  nature  did  he  display  that  he 
won  the  respect  of  the  four  cowpunchers,  than 
whom  there  were  no  harder  characters  riding  the 
plains. 

At  last  Merry  Dick  had  stowed  the  food  in  his 
saddle  bags,  unhobbled  and  made  ready  his 
broncho,  and  as  he  waited  for  Bob  to  mount,  the 
others  began  to  tease  him. 

"No  tricks,  now,"  said  one.  "Remember  what 
John  said  about  the  comparative  value  of  cow- 
boys and  steers.  Don't  put  salt  instead  of  sugar 
in  Bob's  coffee." 

"Don't  worry  about  me"  laughed  Bob.    "With 


182  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

Chester  my  friend,  we're  more  likely  to  play  tricks 
on  Merry  Dick  than  he  is  to  play  any  on  us." 

And  amid  the  shouts  of  merriment  this  sug- 
gestion produced,  the  cowboy  and  his  youthful 
companion  galloped  away. 

"Ain't  that  Firefly  you're  ridin'?"  asked  Merry 
Dick,  after  having  tried  in  vain  to  leave  Bob  be- 
hind by  sending  his  own  pony  at  a  mad  gallop. 

"Y— yes,"  returned  Bob.  "Mr.  Thomas,  the 
station  agent,  bought  him  for  me." 

"Bought  him?"  repeated  the  cowboy  in  amaze- 
ment. "You  must  be  rollin'  in  money,  kid. 
Simons  said  he'd  never  sell  for  less  than  two  hun- 
dred dollars." 

Bob  had  no  idea  as  to  the  value  of  horseflesh, 
so  he  asked : 

"Is  that  much  to  pay  for  a  pony?" 

"Much?  Well,  I  don't  know  what  you  call 
much,  but  I  do  know  that  you  can  buy  all  the 
ponies  you  want,  good  ones  at  that,  for  fifty 
dollars." 

This  knowledge  of  the  expense  to  which  Mrt 
Nichols  had  been  put  to  provide  him  with  a 
mount,  for  Bob  believed  it  was  he  who  had 
ordered  the  agent  so  to  do,  grieved  the  boy  and 
he  became  silent,  wondering  if  he  should  not  send 
back  the  one  hundred  dollars  present  in  part 
payment. 


A  SECOND  PLOT  183 

Merry  Dick,  however,  mistook  his  silence  for 
displeasure  and  exclaimed: 

"I  don't  mean  Firefly  ain't  a  good  pony.  He's 
the  best  within  fifty  mile,  so  you  didn't  get  stuck." 

In  due  course  of  time,  they  reached  a  spot  where 
a  few  trees  surrounded  a  spring,  and  there  the 
cowboy  said  they  would  pitch  camp. 

With  surprise,  he  watched  Bob  hobble  his  pony 
and  then  rub  him  down,  observing: 

"I  reckon  you  ain't  so  green  as  you  make  out." 

Ignoring  the  left-handed  compliment,  Bob 
asked : 

"What  do  I  have  to  do  with  the  cattle  ?" 

"Mighty  little,  so  long  as  you  have  the  dog 
.with  you.  He's  as  good  as  any  cowboy."  And 
then  Merry  Dick  explained  that  Bob's  duties  lay 
in  riding  around  and  driving  back  the  cattle  that 
strayed  from  the  herd,  especially  in  the  morning, 
and  in  case  of  a  stampede,  than  which  there  is 
nothing  more  dreaded  by  cowboys,  in  outrunning 
the  leaders  and  changing  their  direction,  yelling 
and  waving  arms,  until  the  frenzied  animals  are 
made  to  tire  themselves  out  traveling  in  a  circle. 

The  hours  till  twilight  passed  quickly  with  the 
stories  the  cowboy  told  of  experiences  he  had  had 
and  had  heard,  in  both  of  which  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  draw  freely  on  his  imagination. 

As  the  sunset  bathed  the  plains  in  a  glorious 


184  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

red,  the  two  rode  out  and  drove  the  straggling 
cattle  back  to  the  herd,  and  then  Merry  Dick 
showed  Bob  how  to  boil  coffee  over  a  bed  of  coals 
and  fry  bacon  by  holding  it  on  a  fork. 

As  night  fell,  many  sounds  reached  the  boy's 
ears,  but  none  scared  him  except  the  melancholy 
howl  of  the  coyotes. 

Without  incident  the  hours  of  darkness  passed 
and  the  two  days  that  Merry  Dick  was  with  him, 
and,  on  the  third,  Ford  rode  over  to  see  how  they 
were  getting  along. 

"He'll  do,"  announced  the  cowboy,  nodding  to- 
ward Bob. 

"Then  you  can  go  back  to  the  others,"  returned 
his  boss,  who  remained  with  the  boy. 

Day  followed  day  with  monotonous  regularity, 
and  many  a  time  Bob  was  glad  of  the  dog's  com- 
pany. Several  times  Thomas  came  to  see  him, 
bringing  letters  from  both  Mr.  Perkins  and  Mr. 
Nichols  and  taking  back  Bob's  answers,  which  told 
of  his  experiences,  gratitude  for  their  assistance, 
and  delight  in  his  new  life. 

Once  a  week,  Ford  came  to  bring  his  food,  a 
signal  mark  of  favor,  for  the  ranch  cooks  sup- 
plied the  others.  And  as  month  after  month 
passed,  Bob  developed  wonderfully.  The  free, 
outdoor  life  made  his  muscles  like  steel  and  the 
responsibility  and  solitude  matured  him,  so  that 
instead  of  the  rather  timid  boy  who  had  stepped 


A  SECOND  PLOT  185 

from  the  limited  that  morning,  he  was  a  powerful, 
self-reliant  young  man. 

Realizing  this  and  feeling  his  desire  growing 
stronger,  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  month  to  learn 
the  truth  about  his  father  when  Ford  paid  him, 
Bob  asked  if  he  could  ride  over  to  Red  Top  for 
a  day. 

In  reply  to  the  ranchman's  question  as  to  the 
reason,  he  said  he  wanted  to  find  out  about  a  man. 

At  this  answer,  Ford  scanned  his  face  closely, 
but,  unable  to  read  its  expression,  gave  his  permis- 
sion, provided  he  took  the  dog,  saying  he  would 
stand  Bob's  tour  of  duty. 

His  heart  agog,  Bob  was  on  his  way  early  the 
next  morning,  the  faithful  Chester  at  his  side. 

The  village  of  Red  Top  was  similar  to  Fairfax, 
but  being  the  location  of  the  Land  Office  was  of 
more  importance.  As  the  boy,  accompanied  by  the 
dog  passed  along  the  one  street  of  the  town,  they 
attracted  much  attention,  for  many  of  the  people 
recognized  Chester. 

Drawing  rein,  Bob  dismounted  at  the  store, 
forent  inside  and  asked  where  he  could  find  out  who 
owned  property  in  the  town  fifteen  years  ago. 

The  interest  of  the  loungers  in  the  boy  was  no 
whit  lessened  by  this  question  and  several  of  them 
chorused : 

"The  Land  Office,  right  next  door." 

Thanking  them  collectively,  Bob  went  out,  leav- 


186  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

ing  the  idlers  to  speculate  over  his  identity  and 
purpose. 

But  though  he  found  the  Land  Office  without 
difficulty,  he  could  make  neither  head  nor  tail  out 
of  the  records. 

Noticing  the  perplexity  on  his  face,  the  clerk, 
a  kindly-faced,  gray-haired  man,  asked  him  for 
what  he  was  searching. 

"To  see  if  Horace  Chester  ever  owned  any 
property  in  Red  Top." 

"I  can  tell  you  that  without  looking,"  replied 
the  clerk.  "He  had  one  of  the  best  ranches  in 
Oklahoma.  It  was  good  when  he  died.  But  it's 
worth  ten  times  as  much  now." 

This  information  set  Bob's  head  in  a  whirl,  and 
for  some  minutes  he  could  not  speak,  but  when 
he  did,  he  asked  hesitatingly: 

"Was  he — was  he  crazy?" 

"Crazy?  well,  I  should  say  not!"  ejaculated  the 
clerk,  staring  at  Bob  in  wonder. 

"Who  owns  the  property  now?" 

"A.  Leon  Dardus." 

"How'dhegetit?" 

"By  will.  There  was  a  long  legal  battle  be- 
tween Sam  and  John  Ford  and  Dardus.  But 
Dardus  finally  won." 

"Where  is  the  ranch?" 

"Twenty  miles  south  of  here.  Jim  Haskins 
hires  it." 


A  SECOND  PLOT  187 

At  these  surprising  answers,  Bob's  heart  seemed 
to  come  up  in  his  throat,  stifling  his  speech.  But 
noticing  that  his  questions  had  aroused  the  clerk's 
curiosity,  he  hurriedly  left  the  office. 

Needing  time  to  think,  the  boy  hastened  along 
till  he  came  to  a  building  which  served  as  a 
saloon,  diningroom  and  gambling  den. 

Attracted  by  the  food  sign,  he  entered,  took  a 
seat  near  a  partition,  and  ordered  some  pork  and 
beans. 

But  before  it  was  brought,  he  had  forgotten 
about  eating.  From  behind  the  partition,  loud 
voices  were  audible  and  he  caught  the  word 
"Ford." 

Listening  intently,  he  heard  a  voice  say: 

"Sure,  we  can  do  it!  I've  got  the  papers  all 
ready,  old  Sam  Ford's  signature  and  all.  Just 
pass  over  that  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars, 
and  I'll  give  them  to  you." 

"But  suppose  Ford  fights  us  in  court?"  ex- 
claimed another  voice. 

"He  won't  do  that !"  growled  a  third.  "Leave 
it  to  me !" 

"Now,  Bill,  there's  to  be  no " 

But  before  Bob  could  catch  the  last  word,  the 
waiter  came  in  with  his  pork  and  beans  and,  no- 
ticing that  the  boy  was  listening  with  head  close 
to  the  partition,  shouted: 


i88  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"What  you  listenin'  to?  That  don't  go  in  Red 
Top!" 

And  dropping  his  dishes,  he  leaped  for  Bob, 
just  as  the  men  behind  the  partition,  who  had 
heard  the  waiter's  angry  words,  struggled  to  get 
through  the  door. 

Realizing  he  was  no  match  for  so  many,  Bob 
took  to  his  heels,  the  others  in  pursuit. 

As  he  dashed  from  the  restaurant,  Chester 
leaped  to  his  feet  and,  back  bristling,  jaws  dis- 
tended, faced  the  pursuers. 

"That's  Ford's  dog!"  gasped  the  waiter.  "That 
fellow  must  have  been  one  of  his  men!" 

The  commotion  had  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  loungers  m  the  store  and  as  they  hurried  to 
the  street,  the  conspirators,  pointing  to  Bob, 
yelled: 

"Stop  him!  Stop  him!" 

But  Bob,  paying  no  heed,  raced  to  where  Firefly 
stood,  vaulted  into  his  saddle  and,  with  the  dog 
at  his  heels,  dashed  up  the  street. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  RACE   FOR   LIFE 

BELIEVING  the  men  who  tried  to  stop  Bob  must 
have  been  robbed,  several  of  those  about  the  store 
leaped  onto  their  horses  and  gave  chase. 

Meantime,  the  conspirators,  balked  in  their  at- 
tempt to  prevent  the  boy's  escape,  held  a  con- 
sultation. 

"If  that  is  one  of  Ford's  men,  our  goose  is 
cooked,"  snarled  one  of  them. 

"Well,  it  is,  right  enough.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber hearing  about  the  kid  Ford  gave  his  dog  to?" 

Too  well  did  they  remember,  for  the  story  of 
Bob's  call  at  the  ranch  had  traveled  far  and  wide. 

"What's  to-be  done,  then?"  asked  the  first 
speaker. 

"Get  him!"  growled  the  others. 

So  well  did  these  men  understand  one  another 
that  no  explanation  of  this  remark  was  necessary, 
and  without  more  ado  they  hastened  to  the  stable 
back  of  the  saloon,  ordered  their  horses,  and  were 
soon  riding  after  Bob  at  top  speed. 

189 


190  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

Anticipating  that  he  would  be  chased,  the  boy 
had  urged  Firefly  into  a  mad  gallop,  desirous  of 
getting  as  long  a  start  as  possible.  And  well  it 
was  that  he  did,  for  so  mettlesome  were  the  horses 
of  the  conspirators  that,  despite  the  start  the 
loungers  had,  they  quickly  overhauled  them. 

"Which  way  did  he  go?"  demanded  the  ring- 
leader, as  he  rode  alongside. 

"To  Ford's." 

"What's  wrong?  What  did  he  do?  How 
much  did  he  get?"  demanded  others  of  the  vol- 
unteer posse. 

But  the  conspirators  were  not  eager  to  go  into 
detail,  and  their  leader  said: 

"This  is  a  private  matter.  We  are  obliged  to 
you  gentlemen  for  trying  to  stop  that  boy.  But  we 
won't  trouble  you  to  ride  farther.  We  are  quite 
able  to  attend  to  this  business  ourselves." 

Such  an  abrupt  dismissal,  however,  only  piqued 
the  curiosity  of  the  volunteers  the  more,  and  not- 
ing this  the  conspirators  clapped  spurs  to  their 
ponies  and  soon  left  them  behind. 

From  time  to  time,  as  he  raced  across  the  plains, 
Bob  had  looked  back.  With  satisfaction,  he  noted 
that  he  more  than  held  his  own  with  the  pursuers. 
But  when  he  saw  the  four  men  pass  the  leaders  as 
though  the  others  were  standing  still,  he  urged 
Firefly  to  greater  speed. 

Gamely  the  pony  responded,  increasing  Bob's 


A  RACE  FOR  LIFE  191 

lead  still  more,  and  the  boy  noted  from  landmarks 
that  he  was  only  about  two  miles  from  his  station. 
Then  suddenly  Firefly  stumbled,  hurling  Bob  over 
his  head. 

Picking  himself  up,  the  boy,  stopping  only  to 
ascertain  that  he  himself  was  not  injured,  ran  back 
to  his  pony.  But  as  he  saw  the  horse  his  heart 
sank. 

Firefly  had  stepped  in  a  prairie-dog  hole  and 
broken  his  leg. 

From  his  moaning  Bob  realized  the  pony  was 
in  great  pain,  and  for  a  moment  he  stood  unde- 
cided what  to  do.  Then  a  hoarse  shout  of  triumph 
raised  by  the  conspirators  reached  his  ears,  and, 
gritting  his  teeth,  Bob  pulled  out  his  revolver, 
placed  it  against  Firefly's  head  and  pulled  the 
trigger. 

Already  he  had  lost  precious  minutes  and,  wait- 
ing only  to  make  sure  he  had  put  his  faithful  pony 
out  of  misery,  he  once  more  started  toward  his 
station,  leaping  and  bounding  through  the  high 
grass  as  best  he  could. 

Not  far  had  he  gone,  however,  before  he  real- 
ized that  unless  he  could  make  greater  speed,  his 
pursuers  would  soon  overtake  him. 

But  the  prospect  did  not  daunt  him  and,  as  his 
danger  became  greater,  his  brain  became  clearer. 

Apparently  without  effort,  Chester  was  bound- 


192  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

ing  over  the  plains.  Noting  this,  an  idea  flashed 
into  Bob's  mind  and  he  called  the  dog  to  him. 

As  he  approached,  Bob  took  a  firm  grip  with 
his  right  hand  in  the  mass  of  hair  on  Chester's 
shoulders,  exclaiming : 

"You've  got  to  help  me  run,  boy.  Now  don't 
go  too  fast.  Remember,  I  can't  leap  the  way 
you  do." 

And,  as  though  understanding,  the  dog  mod- 
erated his  gait  and  together  they  tore  through  the 
grass. 

Yet  so  uneven  was  the  race  that  Bob  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  captured  had  not  aid  come  from 
an  unexpected  quarter. 

So  still  was  the  air  that  the  report  of  Bob's 
shot  had  carried  to  the  ears  of  John  Ford  who, 
sensing  trouble,  was  riding  slowly  toward  Red 
Top  to  meet  the  lad. 

Shooting  not  being  common  on  the  plains  there- 
abouts, no  sooner  had  he  heard  the  report  than 
he  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse  and  dashed  in  its 
direction,  and  not  far  had  he  ridden  before  he 
caught  sight  of  Bob  and  Chester  and  their  pur- 
suers. 

At  a  glance,  he  realized  that  the  boy  was  in 
great  danger,  and  grinding  his  teeth  savagely,  he 
rode  at  him  like  mad,  from  time  to  time  shouting 
to  Bob  to  keep  up  courage. 

But  the  plucky  boy  saw  and  recognized  his 


A  RACE  FOR  LIFE  193 

employer  long  before  he  heard  his   reassuring 
words,  and  the  sight  lent  him  fresh  strength. 

The  pursuers  also  saw  Ford  and  redoubled 
their  efforts  to  reach  Bob  first.  But  the  terrific 
pace  was  telling  on  their  mounts  and  they  made 
little  progress. 

With  a  yell  of  exultation,  Ford  reached  Bob, 
gave  him  a  hand  and  lifted  him  up  behind  t& 
the  saddle,  asking : 

"What  are  they  after  you  for?" 

"Because  I  wanted  to  warn  you!"  answered 
Bob,  and  hurriedly  he  related  all  he  had  over- 
heard and  the  incidents  of  the  pursuit. 

As  he  listened  to  the  story,  the  ranchman's  face 
grew  terrible  to  behold.  And  as  it  was  finished, 
he  sat  in  silence  a  moment,  then  fairly  hissed: 

"My  law  is  not  'an  eye  for  an  eye'  or  'a  tooth 
for  a  tooth.'  But  four  eyes  for  an  eye !" 

For  an  instant  only  was  Bob  mystified  by  this 
speech. 

Swinging  his  rifle  from  his  back  to  his  shoulder 
with  incredible  rapidity,  Ford  fired  four  shots  in 
quick  succession.  And  after  each  shot,  one  of 
the  conspirator's  horses  fell. 

"So  much  for  Firefly,  though  I  wouldn't  take 
the  four  for  him !"  snarled  the  ranchman.  "Now 
for  the  men!  Oh,  no!  I'm  not  going  to  shoot 
them,"  he  added,  noting  the  look  of  horror  on 
Bob's  face.  "I  intend  to  capture  them  and  hand 


194  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

them  over  to  the  law.  You're  lighter  than  I  am, 
so  you  take  my  pony  and  ride  for  the  boys.  I'll 
stay  here  and  keep  track  of  those  scoundrels. 
They  won't  be  able  to  walk  far." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  Ford  slipped  from  the  sad- 
dle, and  Bob  taking  his  place  dashed  away  for 
the  other  cowboys. 

By  good  fortune,  he  found  them  at  the  end  of 
their  range  nearest  the  scene  of  trouble,  and  no 
urging  did  they  need  to  ride  to  their  employer's 
assistance  when  they  had  heard  Bob's  story. 

Divining  the  purpose  of  the  boy's  departure, 
the  conspirators  had  separated  and  then  sought 
to  hide  themselves  in  the  long  grass.  But  the 
ranchman  had  kept  watch  of  their  general  direc- 
tion, and  as  his  boys  rode  up,  ordered  them  to 
advance  abreast  toward  the  spot  where  the  scoun- 
drels had  disappeared. 

As  they  approached,  Ford  shouted: 

"If  you  men  will  surrender,  we  won't  hurt  you! 
But  if  you  fire  so  much  as  one  shot,  we'll  kindle 
the  prairie  and  roast  you!" 

For  a  moment  after  this  terrible  alternative  was 
pronounced  there  was  silence  and  the  conspirators 
made  no  move.  Then  one  by  one  they  stood  up, 
glowering  with  awful  hatred  at  Bob. 

"Hands  up !"  commanded  Ford.  "That's  the 
way!  Now,  boys,  take  their  guns  and  knives,  then 
bind  their  hands  behind  their  backs  and  each  carry 


A  RACE  FOR  LIFE  195 

one  behind  you.     We're  going  to  take  them  to 
Red  Top  jail." 

While  his  cowboys  were  obeying  his  instruc- 
tions with  no  gentle  hands,  Ford  mounted  his 
horse,  keeping  Bob  behind  him. 

After  the  troop  was  under  way,  the  ranchman 
asked : 

"What  made  you  take  such  a  chance  for  me, 
boy?" 

"Because  you  were  a  friend  of  my  father!" 
replied  Bob  simply. 

"What?"  exclaimed  Ford,  turning  so  suddenly 
that  he  almost  unseated  the  boy. 

"My  name  isn't  Bob  Nichols,  Mr.  Ford.  It's 
Bob  Chester!" 

"Then  I  wasn't  wrong!  I  wasn't  wrong!"  mur- 
mured the  ranchman.  And  the  next  moment  he 
was  hugging  Bob  to  his  breast,  sobbing  over  him 
and  caressing  him. 

The  sight  of  their  stern,  unemotional  employer 
weeping  like  a  woman  over  Bob  astounded  the 
cowboys,  and  eagerly  they  closed  around  him, 
though  they  were  too  impressed  by  the  scene  to 
speak. 

But  as  soon  as  he  recovered  his  composure, 
Ford  exclaimed : 

"Boys,  Bob  is  the  son  of  the  best  friend  I  ever 
had — Horace  Chester.  I  was  struck  by  the  re- 
semblance when  I  first  laid  eyes  on  him.  When 


196  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

he  told  me  his  name,  I  thought  I  must  be  mis- 
taken. But  Chester  knew  better.  That's  why  the 
dog  took  to  him.  He  recognized  the  blood. 

"And  now  you  all  ride  on.  Bob  and  I  want  to 
talk." 

Reluctantly  the  cowboys  obeyed  and  when  they 
were  out  of  hearing,  Bob  spoke,  giving  a  detailed 
account  of  the  reasons  why  he  had  come  to  Fair- 
fax, the  experiences  through  which  he  had  passed 
iwhile  on  the  way,  his  discoveries  about  his  father's 
property,  and  finally  showed  the  ranchman  the 
precious  letter. 

"And  Leon  Dardus  kept  you  at  drudgery,  de- 
nying you  your  money,  even  trying  to  make  you 
believe  your  father  was  insane !"  remarked  Ford, 
as  the  narration  ended.  "I  knew  he  was  a  villain. 
That  will  is  a  forgery,  Bob.  We'U  get  back  the 
property  for  you,  never  fear.  Dardus  may  have 
money.  But  your  friends  Perkins  and  Nichols 
have  more.  I  made  a  vow  when  Dardus  beat  me 
on  the  will  that  when  I  had  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  I'd  track  him  down  and  solve  this  mys- 
tery. But  now  it  won't  be  necessary  to  wait. 

"Right  will  conquer,  every  time,  Bobl" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

FROM  RANCH  TO  RICHES 

BOB  asked  many  questions  about  his  father  on 
the  ride  to  Red  Top,  learning  that  he  had  died 
from  pneumonia;  that  his  mother  had  died  soon 
after  Bob  was  born,  and  that  it  had  been  his 
father's  dying  request  that  he  be  sent  to  New 
York,  where  he  could  grow  up  and  receive  the  edu- 
cation he  himself  had  been  denied.  But  their 
arrival  at  Red  Top  put  an  end  to  their  conversa- 
tion and  they  turned  to  the  matter  at  hand. 

As  the  citizens  saw  Bob's  pursuers  return  cap- 
tives they  were  amazed,  and  when  they  learned 
the  reason  they  expressed  in  no  uncertain  terms 
their  anger  at  having  been  made  to  chase  an  inno- 
cent boy. 

At  the  jail,  the  forged  deed  and  other  papers 
that  were  to  be  used  in  stealing  John  Ford's  ranch 
away  from  him  were  found  on  che  prisoners  and 
were  filed  away  to  be  used  against  them  at  the 
trial. 

To  one  or  two  of  his  firm  friends,  the  ranch- 
197 


198  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

man  introduced  Bob,  and  sincere  were  their  ex- 
pressions of  delight  both  at  meeting  him  and  in 
knowing  that  he  was  to  come  into  his  own.  Ford, 
however,  swore  them  to  silence,  for  there  were 
some  of  the  townsfolk  who  had  supported  Dardus 
in  his  lawsuit,  and  neither  the  ranchman  nor  Bob 
wished  a  word  of  his  presence  to  leak  out  till  they 
had  perfected  their  plans  for  bringing  the  dis- 
honest guardian  to  book. 

"But  your  boys  know  it,  John,  and  so  do  the 
prisoners,"  asserted  one  of  these  friends. 

"My  boys  won't  talk  about  it,"  declared  the 
ranchman.  "I'll  see  to  that.  If  the  prisoners  do, 
you  all  can  say  the  story  is  absurd,  probably  an- 
other of  their  plots  to  steal  another  ranch." 

This  decided,  the  grizzled  plainsman  summoned 
his  cowboys,  explained  the  situation  briefly,  and 
offered  them  a  year's  wages  for  their  silence,  which 
they  promised  when  Bob  added  his  entreaties. 

But  to  prevent  any  possible  miscarriage  of  their 
plans,  Bob  wrote  his  discoveries  to  Mr.  Nichols, 
mailing  the  letter  before  he  left  Red  Top.  These 
details  attended  to,  Ford  borrowed  a  horse  for 
Bob,  and  they  set  out  for  the  home  ranch,  which 
they  reached  in  due  course. 

Leaving  Merry  Dick  on  Bob's  station,  Ford 
and  Bob  rode  on  to  Fairfax,  where  they  held  a 
long  consultation  with  the  station  agent,  at  which 
it  was  decided  that  Bob  and  the  ranchman  should 


FROM  RANCH  TO  RICHES  199 

both  go  on  to  New  York  to  obtain  restitution  from 
Len  Dardus.  And,  with  much  hurrying,  they  pre- 
pared to  leave  Fairfax  the  next  night. 

Thomas  asked  and  obtained  permission  from 
Mr.  Nichols  for  the  east-bound  limited  to  stop  at 
the  way-station,  and  when  Higgins  and  the  others 
saw  the  ranchman  and  Bob  on  the  platform,  they 
were  consumed  with  curiosity. 

"Kidnappin'  John?"  asked  Higgins  of  Bob. 

But  no  satisfaction  did  he  receive,  the  boy  re- 
plying : 

"My  sentiments  about  answering  questions 
haven't  changed  since  the  first  morning  we  met, 
Mr.  Higgins." 

And  while  the  others  were  laughing  at  their 
crony's  discomfiture,  the  train  arrived  and  the  two 
travelers  boarded  it,  with  the  well  wishes  of  the 
agent  ringing  in  their  ears. 

At  Kansas  .City  Mr.  Nichols  joined  them,  say- 
ing he  had  decided  to  go  on  to  New  York,  where 
they  would  meet  Mr.  Perkins,  both  being  deter- 
mined to  bring  Bob  into  his  own. 

A  happy  party  they  made,  Bob  recounting  his 
experiences,  Ford  adding  his  dry  comments,  and 
Mr.  Nichols  enjoying  the  boy's  development  and 
manliness. 

As  they  were  rehearsing  the  story  for  the  twen- 
tieth time,  Mr.  Nichols  asked: 


200  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"Have  you  learned,  Bob,  who  the  man  with  the 
scar  is?" 

"What  sort  of  a  scar?"  demanded  the  ranch- 
man, before  the  boy  could  answer.  And  as  Bob 
described  it,  he  exclaimed: 

"That's  Knuckles,  your  father's  old  foreman!" 

"Good.  I'll  find  him  and  take  him  back  with 
me,"  returned  Bob;  "that  is,  if  things  come  out 
right." 

"Don't  worry  about  that,"  smiled  Mr.  Nichols 
knowingly.  And  when  they  arrived  in  New  York 
and  met  Mr.  Perkins,  these  words  were  explained, 
for  Bob's  patrons  had  set  detectives  at  work  and 
had  learned  all  there  was  to  be  learned  about  Len 
Dardus,  even  to  the  banks  in  which  he  kept  his 
money,  and  how  much  he  had. 

After  holding  a  consultation  and  marshaling 
their  evidence,  it  was  decided  to  call  in  two  mem- 
bers of  the  city  detective  force,  and  upon  their  ar- 
rival, the  party  set  out  for  the  grocery  store  where 
Bob  had  passed  so  many  unhappy  days. 

No  one  was  about  when  the  six  men  entered, 
and,  leaving  Bob  alone,  the  others  withdrew  to 
the  corners  of  the  store  where  the  shadows  prac- 
tically hid  them. 

The  proprietor  had  heard  the  footsteps,  how- 
ever, and  shuffled  from  his  private  office. 

No  farther  did  he  get  than  the  threshold  be- 
fore he  saw  and  recognized  Bob. 


FROM  RANCH  TO  RICHES  201 

"You!"  he  gasped,  turning  pale.  "What  do 
you  want  here?" 

"I  want  the  money  you  have  stolen  from  me, 
Len  Dardus!  I  want  my  father's  ranch  in  Red 
Top  back.  I  want  you  to  say  you  lied  when  you 
said  my  father  was  crazy  when  he  died!" 

The  tone  in  which  the  boy  spoke  was  cold  and 
bitter.  Yet,  instead  of  terrifying  the  storekeeper, 
it  caused  him  to  laugh  as  he  exclaimed:  "You 
can't  blackmail  me,  you  ungrateful  young  wretch! 
Get  out  of  here,  before  I  call  the  police !  I  steal 
your  money,  indeed!  Insanity  seems  to  run  in 
the  Chester  family!" 

"Do  you  think  so,  Len  Dardus?"  demanded 
the  ranchman,  suddenly  emerging  from  the 
shadow. 

"John  Ford!"  gasped  the  storekeeper,  his 
bravado  deserting  him  at  the  sight  of  this  friend 
of  Bob's  father. 

"Yes ;  John  Ford,"  retorted  the  ranchman  in  a 
voice  that  cut  like  steel.  "You  remember  when 
you  won  your  lawsuit  with  that  will  you  forged? 
I  told  you  I  should  trap  you  some  day.  That  day 
has  come!" 

At  these  words,  the  others  stepped  forth. 

From  one  to  another,  Dardus  looked,  then  de- 
manded in  a  terrified  voice: 

"What — what  do  you  want?" 


'202  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

"We  want  justice  for  Bob  Chester,"  said  Mr. 
Perkins. 

"We  want  you  to  give  him  every  cent  you  have 
in  bank  except  the  five  hundred  dollars  you 
had  when  Horace  Chester  died.  We  want  you 
to  sign  this  paper  admitting  that  you  forged  the 
will  bequeathing  you  the  ranch  in  Red  Top.  We 
want  you  to  acknowledge  you  lied  when  you  told 
Bob  his  father  was  insane." 

"And  if  I  refuse?" 

"You  go  to  jail,  and  we  take  the  money  and 
ranch." 

"But  I  have  no  money,"  whimpered  Dardus. 

"Lying  won't  help  you.  We  know  every  cent 
you  have  in  bank  and  where  it  is.  Here's  the  con- 
fession, sign  it  first." 

Glancing  from  one  to  another,  the  storekeeper 
seemed  to  seek  an  avenue  of  escape. 

"Officers,  if  this  man  does  not  sign  this  paper 
within  two  minutes,  arrest  him,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Perkins. 

Quickly  the  detectives  moved  one  to  either  side 
of  Len  Dardus. 

"All  right,  I'll  sign,"  he  moaned,  sinking  into 
a  chair. 

And,  after  reading  the  words  admitting  his 
guilt,  he  affixed  his  name. 

"Now,  tell  Bob  you  lied  to  him  about  his 
father." 


FROM  RANCH  TO  RICHES  203 

"Horace — Chester — was — not — insane." 

"Good,  I  am  glad  you  are  reasonable.  Now, 
come  with  us  in  our  automobile  and  withdraw  the 
money  you  have  in  the  banks." 

Realizing  resistance  was  vain,  Dardus  obeyed. 

At  each  bank  the  boy's  benefactors  compared 
their  private  notes  with  the  amounts  the  store- 
keeper withdrew,  and,  when  the  task  was  ended, 
Bob  had  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  addition  to  the 
ranch. 

As  they  emerged  from  the  last  bank,  however, 
they  did  not  take  the  storekeeper  into  their  car, 
but  left  him  standing  on  the  steps,  the  picture  of 
woe. 

"Now,  we'll  have  a  good  dinner,"  announced 
Mr.  Nichols. 

During  the  meal  the  men  who  had  been  so 
kind  to  Bob  asked  him  what  he  intended  to  do. 

"Go  back  to  the  ranch  and  live  with  John 
Ford,"  was  the  boy's  ready  reply. 

"Yes.  We're  going  into  partnership,"  added 
the  grizzled  plainsman. 

"And  whenever  you  want  a  rest  or  some  hunt- 
ing, there'll  be  two  ranches  at  your  disposal," 
chimed  in  Bob,  to  the  railroad  magnates. 

Before  the  boy  returned  to  the  West,  he  gave 
a  hundred-dollar  bill  to  Nellie  Porter,  the  wait- 
ress who  had  befriended  him,  and  he  also  found 


204  BOB  CHESTER'S  GRIT 

Knuckles,  who  was  overjoyed  to  resume  his  posi- 
tion as  foreman  of  the  Chester  ranch. 

The  firm  of  Ford  &  Chester  prospered.  Many 
times  did  Mr.  Perkins  and  Mr.  Nichols,  as  well 
as  Jack  Foster,  the  reporter,  visit  the  partners, 
continuing  to  exercise  a  kindly  interest  in  their 
welfare,  and  especially  the  welfare  of  Bob 
Chester. 


THE  END 


.11 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  die  last  dale  RtamjjeA  tteU 


RUG  2  9 1981 


3  1158011273835 


A     000077561 


